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illiatii  Sbdkespcare 


iLj^L/-:r  TESTS   TNI':  ariLTo?^  the  a'LNG 

'  ^^  ^^tf^M^^^''  ^   ^''^  garden  for  his  estate.     His  name's 

GoniaooMJie  story  is  extant,  and  wriiten  in  very  choice  Italian  : 
You  shall  see  anon  how  the  murderer  get  the  love  of  Gonzago's  wife." 

III.  9.  HAMLET 


The  Works  of 

milliatn  Shakespeare 


With  Prefaces,  Introductions,  Notes  and 
Comments  by  Gollancz,  Henry  Norman 
Hudson,  C.  H.  Herford  and  numerous 
other  authorities  embodying  the  final  re- 
sults of  three  centuries  of  Shakespearian 
Scholarship.  ::  ::  :: 


IN    TEN    VOLUMES 
_  VOLUME  V 

28623 

Henry   V 

As  You  Like  It 

Much  Ado  About  Nothing 

Hamlet 


BIGELOW,    SMITH     &    COMPANY 

NEW   YORK 


A  Gift  froM 

•i.  ACKERMAN  COLES 

A.  B.  A.  M.,  M.  D.,  L  L.  D. 

'N   MEMORY  OF  HIS  FATHER 


EDITION  DE  LUXE 

Limited  to  One  Thousand  Sets 
Printed  for  Subscribers  only 


3390 


Copyrislil.  1909,  by 
Bijelow,  Smith  &  Co. 


S(L2,&r-\ 

ns-f 

VV"5 

B«i 

■i.^ 

LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


Hamlet   Tests   the   Guilt   of   the    King    (Photogravure) 
Frontispiece 


^^^'•y     ^  FACING 

PAGE 

King  Henry  Before  the  Battle  of  Agincourt  .      .      .      .110 


As  You  Like  It 
Orlando  Joins  the  Exiled  Duke     ...,..,      56 

^  Much  Ado  About  Nothing 
Claudio  Denounces   Hero 78 

Hamlet 
Ophelia  Strewing  Flowers    .      ,      .      ,      •     *     .«      .      .146 


PREFACE 

By  Israel,  Gollancz,  M.A. 


EDITIONS 


The  earliest  edition  of  King  Henry  the  Fifth  is  a  quarto 
published  in  1600,  with  the  following  title: — 

"The  I  Chronicle  |  History  of  Henry  the  Fifth  |  with 
his  battell  fought  at  Agin  Court  in  ]  France.  Together 
with  Auntient  Pistoll.  \  As  it  hath  bene  sundry  times 
played  by  the  Right  honorable  \  the  Lord  Chamberlaine 
his  seruants.  London  |  Printed  by  Thomas  Creede,  for 
Tho.  Mining  ton,  and  lohn  Busby.  And  are  to  be  |  sold 
at  his  house  in  Carter  Lane,  next  |  the  Powle  head. 
1600.   I  " 

This  quarto  was  reprinted  in  1602  and  1608. 

In  the  First  Folio  the  title  of  the  play  is  The  Life  of 
Henry  the  Fift.^ 

The  text  of  the  quarto  edition  differs  in  many  important 
respects  from  that  of  the  folio;  (i)  it  omits  all  the  pro- 
logues and  the  epilogue;  (ii)  some  five  hundred  lines  be- 
sides are  in  no  wise  represented  therein;  (iii)  the  speeches 
of  certain  characters  are  transferred  to  other  characters, 
so  that  the  actors  are  fewer ;  ^  confusion  in  time-indications ; 
(iv)  corruptions,  obscurities,  and  minor  discrepancies 
abound.^  The  Quarto  is  obviously  derived  from  an  edition 
abridged  for  acting  purposes,  evidently  an  imperfect  and 

1  Edited  by  W.  G.  Stone,  New  Shak.  Soc,  1880. 

2  Ely,  Westmoreland,  Bedford,  Britany,  Rambures,  Erpingham, 
Grandpr^,  Macraorris,  Jamy,  Messenger,  II.  iv.,  and  IV.  ii.,  and  the 
French  Queen,  have  no  speeches  assigned  to  them  in  the  Quarto. 

3  Cp.  Henry  V,  Parallel  Texts,  ed.  Nicholson,  with  Introduction, 
by  P.  A.  Daniel;  New  Shak.  Soc. 

vii 


Preface  THE   LIFE   OF 

unauthorized  version  made  up  from  shorthand  notes  taken 
at  the  theater,  and  afterwards  ampHfied.  The  original  of 
this  abridged  edition  was  in  all  probability  the  Folio  text, 
more  or  less,  as  we  know  it.  This  view  of  the  question  is 
now  generally  accepted,  and  few  scholars  are  inclined  to 
maintain  that  "the  original  of  the  Quarto  was  an  earlier 
one  without  choruses,  and  following  the  Chronicle  his- 
torians much  more  closely."  ^ 

THE    DATE    OF    COMPOSITION 

The  reference  to  Essex  in  the  Prologue  to  Act  V  (vide 
Note)  shows  that  Henry  the  Fifth  must  have  been  acted 
between  March  21  and  September  28,  1599;^  the  play  is 
not  mentioned  by  Meres  in  his  Palladis  Tamia,  1598, 
though  Henry  IV  is  included  in  this  list;  the  Epilogue  to 
2  Henry  IV  makes  promise  of  Henry  V,  but  "our  humble 
author"  has  modified  his  original  conception ;  ^  this  change 
of  plan  is  intimately  connected  with  the  composition  of 
The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor;  the  play  is  found  in  the 
Stationers'  Register  under  August  4,  1600  (together  with 

1  Vide  Fleay,  Life  and  Work  of  Shakespeare,  p.  206.  Besides 
thus  differentiating  the  two  editions,  Mr.  Fleay  takes  the  scene  with 
the  Scotch  and  Irish  captains  (III.  ii.  I.  69  to  the  end  of  the  scene) 
to  be  an  insertion  for  the  Court  performance,  Christmas,  1605,  to 
please  King  James,  who  had  been  annoyed  that  year  by  depreciation 
of  the  Scots  on  the  stage. 

This  scene  is  certainly  a  contrast  to  the  anti-Scottish  feeling  in 
Act  I.  sc.  ii.  The  late  Richard  Simpson  made  some  interesting, 
though  doubtful,  observations  on  the  political  teaching  of  Henry  V 
in  a  paper  dealing  with  The  politics  of  Shakespeare's  Historical 
Plays   (New  Shak.  Soc,  1874). 

2  It  is  fair  to  assume  that  the  choruses  were  written  for  the  first 
performances,  though  Pope,  Warburton,  and  others  held  that  these 
were  inserted  at  a  later  period;  they  must,  however,  have  formed 
an  integral  portion  of  Shakespeare's  original  scheme;  considerations 
of  time  may  have  necessitated  their  omission  in  the  abridged  acting 
edition. 

3  "Our  humble  author  will  continue  the  story,  with  Sir  John  in  it, 
and  make  you  merry  with  fair  Katharine  of  France;  where,  for  any- 
thing I  know,  Falstaff  shall  die  of  a  sweat,"  etc. 

viii 


KING  HENRY   V  Preface 

As  You  Like  It,  Much  ddo  About  Nothing,  and  Ben  Jon- 
son's  Every  Man  in  his  Humour),  marked,  "to  be  staied," 
though  ten  days  afterwards  it  is  again  entered  among  the 
copies  assigned  to  Thomas  Pavyer;  in  the  same  year  we 
have  the  pubhcation  of  the  Quarto  edition;  finally,  the 
Globe  Theater,  built  by  Burbage  in  1599,  is  somewhat  em- 
phatically referred  to  in  the  Prologue;  all  these  consider- 
ations seem  to  fix  with  certainty  the  year  1599  as  the  date 
of  this  play. 

THE    SOURCES 

The  main  authority  for  the  history  of  Henry  V  was  the 
second  edition  of  Holinshed's  Chronicles,  published  in 
1587,  though  he  departs  occasionally  from  his  original  for 
the  sake  of  dramatic  effect.  For  two  or  three  minor  points 
Shakespeare  was  indebted  to  the  old  play  of  The  Famous 
Victories  of  Henry  the  Fifth  ^  (e.  g.,  a  few  touches  in  Act 
I,  sc.  ii ;  the  episode  of  Pistol  and  the  French  soldier ;  the 
wooing  scene,  etc.).^ 

_y-  DURATION    OF    ACTION 

The  time  of  Henry  V  covers  ten  days,  with  intervals,  em- 
bracing altogether  a  period  of  about  six  years,  from  the 
opening  of  the  Parliament  at  Leicester,  April  30,  1414, 
to  Henry's  betrothal  to  Katherine,  May  20,  1420: — 

1st  Chorus.  Prologue,  "sets  forth  the  claims  of  the 
dramatist  on  the  imagination  of  the  audience." 

Day  1.  Act  I,  sc.  i  and  ii.  Ante-chamber  in  the  King's 
palace;  the  presence-chamber. 

^  The  Famous  Victories  was  licensed  in  1594;  in  1592  Nash,  in 
Pierce  Pennilesse,  alludes  to  this  or  some  other  play  on  the  same 
subject: — "What  a  glorious  thing  it  is  to  have  Henry  the  Fifth 
represented  on  the  stage,  leading  the  French   King  prisoner,"  etc. 

2  Cp.  W.  G.  Stone's  Introduction  to  Henry  the  Fifth  (New  Shak. 
Soc);  an  exhaustive  study  of  the  historical  aspect  of  the  play;  also, 
Courtenay's  Historical  Plays  of  Shakespeare;  Warner's  English  His- 
tory in  Shakespeare. 


Preface  THE   LIFE   OF 

2nd  Chorus;  "tells  of  the  preparations  for  war;  of  the 
discovery  of  the  plot  against  the  king,  who  is  set 
from  London,  and  that  the  scene  is  to  be  trans- 
ported to  London."     Interval. 

Day  2.  Act  II,  sc.  i.  London  (?  Eastcheap).  Inter- 
val. 

Day  3.  Act  II,  sc.  ii.  Southampton;  scene  iii,  London 
(Falstaff  is  dead).     Interval. 

Day  4.  Act  II,  sc.  iv.     France,  the  King's  Palace. 

Srd  Chorus;  "tells  of  the  King's  departure  from 
Hampton ;  his  arrival  at  Harfleur,  and  of  the  return 
of  his  Ambassador  with  proposals."     Interval. 

Day  5.  Act  III,  sc.  i  to  iii.  Before  Harfleur.  Inter- 
val.     [Act  III,  sc.  iv.     Interval^  following  Day  4]. 

Day  6.  Act  III,  sc.  v.     Rouen.     Interval. 

Day  7.  Act  III,  sc.  vi ;  [^Interva^  first  part  of  scene  vii ; 
Blangy. 

Day  8.  Act  HI,  sc.  vii.  (French  camp  near  Agin- 
court. ) 

4!th  Chorus  (Interval).  Act  IV,  sc.  i-viii  (with  Inter- 
vals) ;  English  camp. 

5th  Chorus;  "tells  of  Henry's  journey  to  England 
and  of  his  reception  by  his  people ;  then,  with  ex- 
cuses for  passing  over  time  and  history,  brings  his 
audience  straight  back  again  to  France.  The  his- 
toric period  thus  passed  over  dates  from  October 
14)15  to  Henry's  betrothal  to  Katherine,  May 
1420."     Interval. 

Day  9.  Act  V,  sc.  ii;  (perhaps,  better,  the  last  scene 
should  reckon  as  the  tenth  day,  vide  W.  G.  Stone,  p.  ciii). 

6th  Chorus.  Epilogue,  (cp.  Daniel's  Time  Analy- 
sis; Trans.  Shak.  Soc.  1877-79.) 

In  no  other  play  has  Shakespeare  attempted  so  bold  an 
experiment  in  the  dramatization  of  war;  nowhere  else  has 


KING   HENRY   V  Preface 

he  made  so  emphatic  an  apology  for  disregarding  the 
unities  of  time  and  place,  nor  put  forth  so  clear  a  vindica- 
tion of  the  rights  of  the  imagination  in  the  romantic 
drama ;  he  seems,  indeed,  to  point  directly  to  Sidney's  fa- 
mous comment  on  the  scenic  poverty  of  the  stage, ^ — "Two 
armies  f,ye  in,  represented  with  four  swords  and  bucklers, 
and  then  what  hard  heart  will  not  receive  it  for  a  'pitched 
field," — when  his  Chorus  makes  the  mock  avowal: — 

"O  for  pity; — we  shall  much  disgrace 
With  four  or  five  most  vile  and  ragged  foils, 
Right  ill-disposed  in  brawl  ridiculous, 
The  name  of  Agincourt."  - 

The  theme,  as  well  as  its  treatment  and  the  spirit  which  in- 
forms the  whole,  is  essentially  epic  and  lyrical  rather  than 
dramatic,  and  the  words  addressed  by  Ben  Jonson  to  the 
arch-patriot  among  English  poets,  the  poet  of  the  Ballad 
of  Agincourt,  "his  friend,  Michael  Drayton,"  ^  might 
more  justly  be  applied  to  the  patriot-dramatist  of  Agin- 
court : — 

"Look  how  we  read  the  Spartans  were  inflamed 
With  bold  Tyht^us'  verse;  when  thou  art  named 
So  shall  our  English  youths  urge  on,  and  cry 
An  Agincourt!  an  Agincourt!  or  die." 

1  Cp.  Apology  for  Poetry  (Arber's  Reprint,  pp.  63,  64). 

2  Prol.  iv.  49-52. 

3  Ben  Jonson's  Vision  on  the  Muses  of  his  Friend,  Michael  Dray- 
ton. Jonson  seems  to  have  objected  to  Shakespeare's  method  in 
Henry  V.  Cp.  Prologue  to  Every  Man  in  his  Humour  (added  to  the 
play  after  1601):— 

"He  rather  prays,  you  will  be  pleased  to  see 
One  such,  to-day,  as  other  plays  should  be; 
Where  neither  chorus  wafts  you  o'er  the  seas,"  &c. 

Towards  the  end  of  his  career,  in  his  Winter's  Tale,  Shakespeare 
spoke  again,  in  the  person  of  the  Chorus  Time,  in  defense  of  his 
"power  to  overthrow  law  and  in  one  self-born  hour  to  plant  and 
o'erwhelm  custom. 


XI 


INTRODUCTION 

By  Henry  Norman  Hudson,  A.M. 

The  Life  of  Henry  the  Fifth,  as  it  is  called  in  the  folio 
of  1623,  was  doubtless  originally  written  in  pursuance  of 
the  promise  given  out  in  the  Epilogue  of  the  preceding 
play :  "Our  humble  author  will  continue  the  story,  with 
Sir  John  in  it,  and  make  you  merry  with  fair  Katharine 
of  France."     Both  The  First  and  Second  Parts  of  Henry 

IV  were  probably  written  before  February  25,  1598;  and 
it  is  but  reasonable  to  suppose  that  both  parts  were  in- 
cluded in  the  mention  of  Henry  IV  by  Francis  Meres  in 
his  Palladis  Tamia,   which   was  made  that   year.     Henry 

V  being  so  great  a  favorite  with  the  English  people,  both 
historically  and  dramatically,  it  is  natural  to  presume  that 
the  Poet  would  not  long  delay  the  fulfilling  of  his  promise. 

We  have  almost  certain  proof  that  Henry  V  was  not 
originally  written  as  it  now  stands.  This  play,  along 
with  two  others  of  Shakespeare's  and  one  of  Ben  Jonson's, 
was  entered  in  the  Stationers'  Register,  August  4,  1600; 
and  that  opposite  the  entry  was  an  order  "to  be  sta3'ed." 
It  was  entered  again  on  the  14th  of  the  same  month ;  and  in 
the  course  of  that  year  was  issued  a  quarto  pamphlet  of 
twenty-seven  leaves,  with  a  title-page  reading  as  follows : 
"The  Chronicle  History  of  Henry  the  Fifth,  with  his  bat- 
tle fought  at  Agincourt  in  France:  Together  with  Ann 
cient  Pistol.  As  it  hath  been  sundry  times  played  by  the 
Right  Honourable  the  Lord  Chamberlain  his  servants. 
London:  Printed  by  Thomas  Creede,  for  Tho.  Millington, 
and  John  Busby:  And  are  to  be  sold  at  his  house  in  Carter 
Lane.  1600.  The  same  text  was  reissued  in  1602,  and 
again  in   1608,  both   issues  being  "printed  for  Thomas 

xii 


KING  HENRY  V  Introduction 

Pavier."  In  none  of  these  editions  is  the  author's  name 
given,  and  all  of  them  appear  to  have  been  published  with- 
out his  sanction:  the  play,  moreover,  is  but  about  half  as 
long  as  we  have  it,  all  the  Choruses  being  entirely  wanting, 
as  are  also  the  whole  of  the  first  scene,  more  than  half  of 
the  king's  long  speech  to  the  conspirators  in  Act  II,  sc.  ii, 
his  speech  before  Harfleur,  Act  III,  sc.  i,  his  reflections  on 
ceremony  in  Act  IV,  sc.  i,  and  more  than  two-thirds  of 
Burgundy's  fine  speech  on  peace  in  Act  V,  sc.  i ;  besides 
more  or  less  of  enlargement  and  the  marks  of  a  careful  fin- 
ishing hand  running  through  the  whole  play :  all  which 
appeared  first  in  the  folio  of  1623. 

That  the  quarto  edition  of  Henry  V  was  surreptitious,  is 
on  all  hands  allowed.  But  much  controversy  has  been  had, 
whether  it  was  printed  from  a  full  and  perfect  copy  of 
the  play  as  first  written,  or  from  a  mangled  and  mutilated 
copy,  such  as  could  be  made  up  by  unauthorized  reporters. 
Many  things  might  be  urged  on  either  side  of  this  ques- 
tion ;  but  as  no  certain  conclusion  seems  likely  to  be  reached, 
the  discussion  probably  may  as  well  be  spared.  Perhaps 
the  most  considerable  argument  for  the  former  position 
is,  that  the  quarto  has  in  some  cases  several  consecutive  lines 
precisely  as  they  stand  in  the  folio ;  while  again  the  folio 
has  many  long  passages,  and  those  among  the  best  in  the 
play,  and  even  in  the  whole  compass  of  the  Poet's  writings, 
of  which  the  quarto  yields  no  traces  whatsoever.  This,  to 
be  sure,  is  nowise  decisive  of  the  point,  since,  granting  that 
some  person  or  persons  undertook  to  report  the  play  as 
spoken,  it  is  not  impossible  that  he  or  they  may  have  taken 
down  some  parts  very  carefully,  and  omitted  others  alto- 
gether. And  the  editors  of  the  first  folio  tell  us  in  their 
preface  that  there  were  "divers  stolen  and  surreptitious 
copies,  maimed  and  deformed  by  the  frauds  and  stealths  of 
injurious  impostors,  that  expos'd  them." 

The  only  internal  evidence  as  to  the  date  of  the  writing 
occurs  in  the  Chorus  to  Act  V: 

"Were  now  the  general  of  our  gracious  empress 
(As  in  good  time  he  may)  from  Ireland  coming, 


Introduction  THE    LIP^E    OF 

Bringing  rebellion  broached  on  his  sword, 
How  many  would  the  peaceful  city  quit, 
To  welcome  him !" 

This  passage  undoubtedly  refers  to  the  Earl  of  Essex,  who 
set  forth  on  his  expedition  against  the  Irish  rebels  in  the 
latter  part  of  March,  1599,  and  returned  September  28, 
the  same  year.  Which  makes  it  certain  that  this  Chorus, 
and  probable  that  the  other  Choruses  were  written  before 
September  28,  1599.  The  most  reasonable  conclusion, 
then,  seems  to  be,  that  the  first  draught  of  the  play  was 
made  in  1598,  pretty  much  as  it  has  come  down  to  us  in 
the  quarto  editions ;  that  the  whole  was  carefully  rewritten, 
greatly  enlarged,  and  the  Choruses  added,  during  the  ab- 
sence of  Essex,  in  the  summer  of  1599 ;  and  that  a  copy 
of  the  first  draught  was  fraudulently  obtained  for  the  press, 
after  it  had  been  displaced  on  the  stage  by  the  enlarged 
and  finished  copy  of  the  play,  as  we  have  it  in  the  folio  of 
1623. 

The  historical  matter  of  this  drama  was  taken,  as  usual, 
from  the  pages  of  Holinshed ;  and  a  general  outline  thereof 
may  be  presented  in  a  short  space,  leaving  the  particular 
obligations  to  appear  in  the  form  of  notes. — Henry  V  came 
to  the  throne  in  JNIarch,  1413,  being  then  at  the  age  of 
tv,enty-six.  The  civil  troubles  that  so  much  harassed  his 
father's  reign  naturally  started  him  upon  the  policy  of 
busying  his  subjects'  minds  in  foreign  quarrels.  And  in 
his  second  parliament  a  proposition  was  made,  and  met  with 
great  favor,  to  convert  a  large  amount  of  church  prop- 
erty to  the  uses  of  the  state;  which  put  the  clergy  upon 
adding  the  weighty  arguments  of  their  means  and  counsel 
in  furtherance  of  the  same  policy.  In  effect  the  king  was 
easily  persuaded  that  the  Salique  law  had  no  right  to  bar 
him  from  the  throne  of  France ;  and  ambassadors  were  sent 
over  to  demand  the  French  crown  and  all  its  dependencies : 
the  king  offering,  withal,  to  take  the  Princess  Katharine  in 
marriage,  and  endow  her  with  a  part  of  the  possessions 
claimed ;  and  at  the  same  time  threatening  that,  if  this  were 
refused,  "he  would  recover  his  right  and  inheritance  with 

xiv 


KING   HENRY   V  Introduction 

mortal  war,  and  dint  of  sword."  An  embassy  being  soon 
after  received  from  France,  the  same  demand  was  renewed, 
and  peremptorily  insisted  on.  The  French  king  being 
then  incapable  of  rule,  the  government  was  in  the  hands 
of  the  Dauphin,  who  having  seen  fit  to  play  off  some  merry 
taunts  on  the  English  monarch,  the  latter  dismissed  his  am- 
bassadors with  the  following  speech :  "I  little  esteem  your 
French  brags,  and  less  set  by  3'our  power  and  strength :  I 
know  perfectly  my  right,  which  you  usurp,  as  yourselves 
also  do,  except  you  deny  the  apparent  truth.  The  power 
of  your  master  you  see ;  mine  you  have  not  yet  tasted.  If 
he  have  loving  subjects,  I  am  not  unstored  of  the  same  ;  and 
before  a  year  pass  I  trust  to  make  the  highest  crown  of 
your  country  stoop.  In  the  mean  time,  tell  your  master 
that  within  three  months  I  will  enter  France  as  my  own  true 
and  lawful  patrimony,  meaning  to  acquire  the  same,  not 
with  brag  of  words,  but  with  deeds  of  men.  Further  mat- 
ter I  impart  not  to  you  at  present,  save  that  with  warrant 
you  may  depart  safely  to  your  country,  where  I  trust 
sooner  to  visit  you  than  you  shall  have  cause  to  bid  me  wel- 
come." 

This  took  place  in  June,  1415,  and  before  the  end  of 
July  the  king's  preparations  were  complete,  and  his  army 
assembled  at  Southampton;  and  as  he  was  just  on  the  eve 
of  embarking  he  got  intelligence  of  a  conspiracy  against 
his  life  by  the  earl  of  Cambridge,  the  lord  Scroop  of 
Marsham,  and  Sir  Thomas  Grey;  who  being  soon  convicted 
in  due  course  and  form  of  law,  and  executed,  the  king  set 
forth  with  a  fleet  of  fifteen  hundred  sail,  carr^nng  six  thou- 
sand men-at-arms,  and  twenty-four  thousand  archers,  and 
landed  at  Harfleur  August  15.  By  September  22  the  town 
was  brought  to  an  unconditional  surrender,  and  put  under 
the  keeping  of  an  English  garrison.  The  English  army 
was  now  reduced  to  about  half  its  original  numbers ;  never- 
theless, the  king,  having  first  sent  a  personal  challenge  to 
the  Dauphin,  to  which  no  answer  was  returned,  took  the 
bold  resolution  of  marching  on  through  several  hostile 
provinces  to  Calais.     After  a  slow  and  toilsome  march, 

XV 


Introduction  THE    LIFE    OF 

during  which  they  suffered  much  from  famine  and  hostile 
attacks,  the  Enghsh  army  came,  on  October  24,  within 
sight  of  Agincourt,  where  the  French  were  strongly  posted 
in  such  sort  that  Henry  must  needs  either  surrender  or 
else  cut  his  way  through  them.  The  French  army  has  been 
commonly  set  down  as  not  less  than  a  hundred  thousand; 
and  they,  never  once  doubting  that  the  field  would  be  theirs, 
spent  the  following  night  in  revelry  and  debate,  and  in  fix- 
ing the  ransom  of  King  Henry  and  his  nobles.  The  night 
being  cold,  dark,  and  rainy,  numerous  fires  were  kindled  in 
both  camps ;  and  the  English,  worn  out  with  labor,  want, 
and  sickness,  passed  the  hours  in  anxious  preparation,  mak- 
ing their  wills  and  saying  their  prayers,  and  hearing  every 
now  and  then  peals  of  laughter  and  merriment  from  the 
French  lines.  During  most  of  the  night  the  king  was  mov- 
ing about  among  his  men,  scattering  words  of  comfort  and 
hope  in  their  ears,  and  arranging  the  order  of  battle,  and 
before  sunrise  had  them  called  to  matins,  and  from  prayer 
led  them  into  the  field.  From  the  confident  bearing  of  the 
French,  it  was  supposed  that  they  would  hasten  to  begin 
the  fight,  and  the  purpose  of  the  English  was  to  wait  for 
the  attack ;  but  when  it  was  found  that  the  French  kept 
within  their  lines,  the  king  gave  order  to  advance  upon 
them,  and  Sir  Thomas  Erpingham  immediately  made  the 
signal  of  onset  by  throwing  his  warder  into  the  air.  The 
battle  was  kept  up  with  the  utmost  fury  for  three  hours,  and 
resulted  in  the  death  of  ten  thousand  Frenchmen,  of  whom 
a  hundred  and  twenty-six  were  princes  and  nobles  bearing 
banners,  eight  thousand  and  four  hundred  were  knights, 
esquires,  and  gentlemen,  five  hundred  of  whom  had  been 
knighted  the  day  before,  and  sixteen  were  mercen- 
aries. Some  report  that  not  above  twenty-five  of  the  Eng- 
lish were  slain ;  but  others  affirm  the  number  to  have  been 
not  less  than  five  or  six  hundred. 

The  news  of  this  victory  caused  infinite  rejoicing  in 
England,  and  the  king  soon  hastened  over  to  receive  the 
congratulations  of  his  people.  When  he  arrived  at  Dover, 
the  crowd  plunged  into  the  waves  to  m^et  him,  and  carried 

xvi 


KING   HENRY  V  Introduction 

him  in  their  arms  from  the  vessel  to  the  beach :  all  the  way 
to  London  was  one  triumphal  procession:  lords,  commons, 
clergy,  mayor,  aldermen,  and  citizens  flocked  forth  to  wel- 
come him:  pageants  were  set  up  in  the  streets,  wine  ran 
in  the  conduits,  bands  of  children  sang  his  praise;  and,  in 
short,  the  whole  population  were  in  a  perfect  ecstasy  of 
joy. 

During  his  stay  in  England,  the  king  was  visited  by  sev- 
eral great  personages,  and  among  others  by  the  Emperor 
Sigismund,  who  came  to  mediate  a  peace  between  him  and 
France,  and  was  entertained  with  great  magnificence, 
but  his  mission  effected  nothing  to  the  purpose.  After 
divers  attempts  at  a  settlement  by  negotiation,  the  king 
renewed  the  war  in  1417,  and  in  August  landed  in  Nor- 
mandy, with  an  army  of  sixteen  thousand  men-at-arms,  and 
about  the  same  number  of  archers.  From  this  time  he  had 
an  almost  uninterrupted  career  of  conquest  till  the  spring 
of  14>20,  when  all  his  demands  were  granted,  and  himself 
publicly  affianced  to  the  Princess  Katharine. 

From  this  sketch  it  may  well  be  gathered  that  the  sub- 
ject was  not  altogether  fitted  for  dramatic  representation, 
as  it  gave  little  scope  for  those  developments  of  character 
and  passion,  wherein  the  interest  of  the  serious  drama 
mainly  consists.  And  perhaps  it  was  a  sense  of  this  defect 
that  led  the  Poet,  upon  the  revisal,  to  pour  through  the 
work  so  large  a  measure  of  the  lyrical  element,  thus  pene- 
trating and  filling  the  whole  with  the  eflficacy  of  a  great 
national  song  of  triumph.  Hence  comes  it  that  the  play 
is  so  thoroughly  charged  with  the  spirit  and  poetry  of  a 
sort  of  jubilant  patriotism,  of  which  the  king  himself  is 
probably  the  most  eloquent  impersonation  ever  delineated. 
Viewed  in  this  light,  the  play,  however  inferior  to  many 
others  in  dramatic  effect,  is  as  perfect  in  its  kind  as  any 
thing  the  Poet  has  given  us.  And  it  has  a  peculiar  value 
as  indicating  what  Shakespeare  might  have  done  in  other 
forms  of  poetry,  had  he  been  so  minded;  the  Choruses  in 
general,  and  especially  that  to  Act  IV,  being  unrivaled  in 
epic  spirit,  clearness,  and  force. — Of  course  the  piece  has 

zvii 


Introduction    '  THE   LIFE   OF 

its  unity  in  the  hero,  who  is  never  for  a  moment  out  of  our 
feelings :  even  when  he  is  most  absent  or  unseen,  the  thought 
and  expression  still  relish  of  him,  and  refer  us  at  once  to  his 
character  as  the  inspirer  and  quickener  thereof;  and  the 
most  prosaic  parts  are  transfigured  and  glorified  into 
poetry  with  a  certain  grace  and  effluence  from  him. 

It  is  quite  remarkable,  that  for  some  cause  or  other  the 
Poet  did  not  make  good  his  promise  touching  FalstafF. 
Sir  John  does  not  once  appear  in  the  play.  Perhaps  any 
speculation  as  to  the  probable  reason  of  this  were  more 
curious  than  profitable ;  but  we  must  needs  think  that  when 
the  Poet  went  to  planning  the  drama  he  saw  the  impracti- 
cability of  making  any  thing  more  out  of  him.  Sir  John's 
dramatic  office  and  mission  were  clearly  at  an  end,  when  his 
connection  with  Prince  Henry  was  broken  off;  the  pur- 
pose of  the  character  being  to  explain  the  unruly  and  riot- 
ous courses  of  the  prince.  Besides,  he  must  needs  have 
had  so  much  of  manhood  in  him  as  to  love  the  prince,  else 
he  had  been  too  bad  a  man  for  the  prince  to  be  with ;  and 
how  might  his  powers  of  making  sport  be  supposed  to  sur- 
vive the  shock  of  being  thus  discarded  by  the  only  person 
on  earth  whom  he  had  the  virtue  to  love?  To  have  repro- 
duced him  with  his  wits  shattered,  had  been  injustice  to 
him ;  to  have  reproduced  him  with  his  wits  sound  and  in 
good  repair,  had  been  unjust  to  the  prince. 

Falstaff  repenting  and  reforming  was  indeed  a  much  bet- 
ter man ;  but  then  in  that  capacity  he  was  not  for  us.  So 
that  Shakespeare  did  well,  no  doubt,  to  keep  him  in  re- 
tirement where,  though  his  once  matchless  powers  no  longer 
give  us  pleasure,  yet  the  report  of  his  sufferings  gently 
touches  our  pity,  and  recovers  him  to  the  breath  of  our 
human  sympathies.  To  our  sense,  therefore,  of  the  mat- 
ter, the  Poet  has  here  drawn  the  best  lesson  from  him  that 
the  subject  might  yield.  We  have  already  seen  that  Fal- 
staff's  character  grows  worse  and  worse  up  to  the  close  of 
the  preceding  play ;  and  it  is  to  be  noted  how  in  all  that 
happens  to  him  the  being  cast  off  by  the  prince  at  last  is 

xviii 


KING   HENRY  V  Introduction 

the  only  thing  that  really  hurts  his  feelings.  And  as  this 
is  the  only  thing  that  hurts  him,  so  it  is  the  only  one  that 
does  him  any  good;  for  he  is  strangely  inaccessible  to  in- 
ward suffering,  and  yet  nothing  but  this  can  make  him 
better.  His  abuse  of  Shallow's  hospitality  is  exceedingly 
detestable,  and  argues  that  hardening  of  all  within,  which 
tells  far  more  against  a  man  than  almost  any  amount  of 
mere  sensuality.  And  yet  when  at  last  the  hostess  tells  us 
"the  king  has  kill'd  his  heart,"  what  a  volume  of  redeem- 
ing matter  is  suggested  concerning  him !  We  then  for  the 
first  time  begin  to  respect  him  as  a  man,  because  we  see  that 
he  has  a  heart  as  well  as  a  brain,  and  that  it  is  through 
his  heart  that  grief  is  let  in  upon  him,  and  death  gets  the 
mastery  of  him.  And  indeed  the  very  absence  of  any  signs 
of  tenderness  in  all  the  rest  of  his  course  rather  favors  the 
notion  of  there  being  a  secret  reserve  of  it  laid  up  some- 
where in  him.  And  notwithstanding  they  do  not  respect 
him,  and  can  at  best  but  stand  amazed  and  bewildered  at 
his  overpowering  freshets  of  humor,  it  is  still  observable 
that  those  who  see  much  of  him  get  strongly  atttached  to 
him ;  as  if  they  had  a  sort  of  blind  instinct  that  beneath  all 
his  overgrowth  of  sin  there  were  yet  some  stirrings  of 
truth  and  good ;  that  the  seeds  of  virtue,  though  dormant, 
were  still  alive  within  him.  This,  as  bath  elsewhere  ap- 
peared, is  especially  the  case  with  that  strangely-interesting 
creature,  the  hostess ;  and  now  we  can  scarce  choose  but 
think  better  of  both  FalstafF  and  Bardolph,  when,  the 
former  having  died,  and  a  question  having  risen  as  to  where 
he  has  gone,  the  latter  says, — "Would  I  were  with  him, 
wheresome'er  he  is."  In  Mrs.  Quickly's  account  of  his 
last  moments  there  is  a  pathos  to  which  we  know  of  noth- 
ing similar,  and  which  is  as  touching  as  it  is  peculiar.  His 
character  having  a  tone  so  original,  and  a  ring  so  firm 
and  clear,  it  was  but  natural  that  upon  his  departure  he 
should  leave  some  audible  vibrations  in  the  air  behind  him. 
The  last  of  these  dies  away  on  the  ear  some  while  after, 
when  the  learned  Welchman,  Fluellen,  uses  him  to  point  a 

six 


Introduction  THE   LIFE   OF 

moral;  and  this  reference,  so  queerly  characteristic,  is 
abundantly  grateful,  as  serving  to  start  up  a  swarm  of 
laughing  memories. 

The  best  general  criticism  on  this  play  is  furnished  by 
Schlegel.  "King  Henry  the  Fifth,"  says  he,  "is  mani- 
festly Shakespeare's  favorite  hero  in  English  history:  he 
paints  him  as  endowed  with  every  chivalrous  and  kingly 
virtue ;  open,  sincere,  affable,  yet,  as  a  sort  of  reminiscence 
of  his  youth,  still  disposed  to  innocent  raillery,  in  the  inter- 
vals between  his  perilous  but  glorious  achievements.  How- 
ever, to  represent  on  the  stage  his  whole  history  after  com- 
ing to  the  throne,  was  attended  with  great  difficulty.  The 
conquests  in  France  were  the  only  distinguished  events  of 
his  reign ;  and  war  is  an  epic  rather  than  a  dramatic  object : 
to  yield  the  right  interest  for  the  stage,  it  must  be  the 
means  whereby  something  else  is  accomplished,  and  not  the 
last  aim  and  substance  of  the  whole.  With  great  insight 
into  the  essence  of  his  art,  Shakespeare  either  allows  us  to 
anticipate  the  result  of  a  war  from  the  qualities  of  the 
general,  and  their  influence  on  the  minds  of  the  soldiers ;  or 
else  he  exhibits  the  issue  in  the  light  of  a  higher  volition, 
the  consciousness  of  a  just  cause  and  a  reliance  on  the  Di- 
vine protection  giving  courage  to  one  party,  while  the 
presage  of  a  curse  hanging  over  their  undertaking  weighs 
down  the  other.  In  King  Henry  V,  as  no  opportunity  was 
afforded  of  taking  the  latter  course,  the  Poet  has  skillfully 
availed  himself  of  the  former. — Before  the  battle  of  Agin- 
court,  he  paints  in  the  most  lively  colors  the  light-minded 
impatience  of  the  French  leaders  for  the  moment  of  bat- 
tle, which  to  them  seemed  infallibly  the  moment  of  victory  ; 
on  the  other  hand,  he  paints  the  uneasiness  of  the  Eng- 
lish king  and  his  army,  from  their  desperate  situation,  cou- 
pled with  the  firm  determination,  if  they  are  to  fall,  at  least 
to  fall  with  honor.  He  applies  this  as  a  general  contrast 
between  the  French  and  English  national  characters ;  a  con- 
trast which  betrays  a  partiality  for  his  own  nation,  cer- 
tainly excusable  in  a  poet,  especially  when  he  is  backed  with 
such  a  glorious  document  as  that  of  the  memorable  battle 

XX. 


Introduction        ,  THE   Lll^E    OF 

in  question.  He  has  surrounded  the  general  events  of  the 
war  with  a  fullness  of  individual,  characteristic,  and  even 
sometimes  comic  features.  A  heavy  Scotchman,  a  hot 
Irishman,  a  well-meaning,  honorable,  pedantic  Welchman, 
all  speaking  in  their  peculiar  dialects,  are  intended  to  show 
that  the  warlike  genius  of  Henry  did  not  merely  carry  the 
English  with  him,  but  also  the  natives  of  the  two  islands, 
who  were  either  not  yet  fully  united  or  in  no  degree  sub- 
ject to  him.  Several  good-for-nothing  associates  of  Fal- 
staff  among  the  dregs  of  the  army  either  afford  an  oppor- 
tunity for  proving  Henry's  strictness  of  discipline,  or  are 
sent  home  in  disgrace.  But  all  this  variety  still  seemed  to 
the  Poet  insufficient  to  animate  a  play  of  which  the  subject 
was  a  conquest,  and  nothing  but  a  conquest.  He  has  there- 
fore tacked  a  prologue  (in  the  technical  language  of  that 
day  a  chorus)  to  the  beginning  of  each  act.  These  pro- 
logues, which  unite  epic  pomp  and  solemnity  with  lyrical 
sublimity,  and  among  which  the  description  of  the  two 
camps  before  the  battle  of  Agincourt  forms  a  most  ad- 
mirable night  piece,  are  intended  to  keep  the  spectators 
constantly  in  mind  that  the  peculiar  grandeur  of  the  ac- 
tions there  described  cannot  be  develone^  •n  a  narrow 
stage ;  and  that  they  must  supply  the  arociencies  of  the 
representation  from  their  own  imaginations.  As  the  sub- 
ject was  not  properly  dramatic,  in  the  form  also  Shake- 
speare chose  rather  to  wander  beyond  the  bounds  of  the 
species,  and  to  sing  as  a  poetic  herald  what  he  could  not 
represent  to  the  eye,  than  to  cripple  the  progress  of  the 
action  by  putting  long  speeches  in  the  mouths  of  the  per- 
sons of  the  drama. 

"  However  much  Shakespeare  celebrates  the  French  con- 
quest of  King  Henry,  still  he  has  not  omitted  to  hint,  after 
his  way,  the  secret  springs  of  this  undertaking.  Henry 
was  in  want  of  foreign  wars  to  secure  himself  on  the  throne ; 
the  clergy  also  wished  to  keep  him  employed  abroad,  and 
made  an  offer  of  rich  contributions  to  prevent  the  passing 
of  a  law  which  would  have  deprived  them  of  half  their 
revenues.     His  learned  bishops  are  consequently  as  ready 

zzi 


Introduction  THE  LIFE  OF 

to  prove  to  him  his  undisputed  right  to  the  irown  of 
France,  as  he  is  to  allow  his  conscience  to  be  tranquillized 
by  them.  They  prove  that  the  Salique  law  is  not,  and 
never  was,  applicable  to  France;  and  the  matter  is  treated 
in  a  more  succinct  and  convincing  manner  than  such  sub- 
jects usually  are  in  manifestoes.  After  his  renowned  bat- 
tles Henry  wished  to  secure  his  conquests  by  marriage  with 
a  French  princess ;  all  that  has  reference  to  this  is  intended 
for  irony  in  the  play.  The  fruit  of  this  union,  from  which 
two  nations  promised  to  themselves  such  happiness  in  fu- 
ture, was  that  very  feeble  Henry  the  Sixth,  under  whom 
every  thing  was  so  miserably  lost.  It  must  not  therefore 
be  imagined  that  it  was  without  the  knowledge  and  will  of 
the  Poet  that  an  heroic  drama  turns  out  a  comedy  in  his 
hands ;  and  ends,  in  the  manner  of  comedy,  with  a  mar- 
riage of  convenience." 

Campbell,  also,  has  some  sentences  in  his  usual  happy 
style  upon  this  play,  wherein  he  justly  trips  one  of  Schle- 
gel's  unlucky  epithets.  "In  Shakespeare's  Henry  V"  says 
he,  "there  is  no  want  of  spirited  action  and  striking  per- 
sonages ;  but  I  cannot  quite  agree  with  Schlegel  as  to  the 
nice  discrimination  which  he  discovers  in  the  portraiture  of 
Irish,  Scotch,  and  Welch  character  among  the  brave  cap- 
tains of  Henry's  camp.  Schlegel  calls  captain  Jamy  'a 
heavy  Scotchman' ;  but  why  should  he  call  my  countryman 
heavy?  Fluellen  says  that  'captain  Jamy  is  a  marvellous 
falorous  gentleman ;  and  of  great  expedition,  and  knowl- 
edge in  the  aunchiant  wars.  He  will  maintain  his  argu- 
ment as  well  as  any  military  man  in  the  disciplines  of  the 
pristine  wars  of  the  Romans.'  Here  is  only  proof  that 
Jamy  was  argumentative,  as  most  Scotsmen  are,  and  imbued 
Avith  some  learning,  but  not  that  he  was  heavy:  he  is  not  a 
cloddish,  but  a  fiery  spirit. 

"The  brave  officers  of  Henry's  army  are,  however, 
finely  contrasted  with  the  scum  of  England, — Nym,  Bar- 
dolph,  and  Pistol.  As  to  poor  Falstaff,  the  description  of 
his  death  in  the  play  affects  us  with  emotions  that  are  not 
profoundly  serious,  and  yet  one  cannot  help  saying,  as 

xxii 


KING   HENRY   V  Introduction 

Prince  Henry  says  on  the  belief  of  his  feigned  death.  'I 
could  have  better  spar'd  a  better  man.'  The  multiplicity 
of  battles  in  Henry  F  is  a  drawback  on  its  value  as  an 
acting  play;  for  battles  are  awkward  things  upon  the 
stage.  We  forget  this  objection,  however,  in  the  reading 
of  the  play.  It  has  noble  passages.  And  amongst  these, 
the  description  of  the  night  before  the  battle  of  Agincourt 
will  be  repeated  by  the  youth  of  England  when  our  chil- 
dren's children  shall  be  gray  with  age.  It  was  said  of 
^schylus,  that  he  composed  his  Seven  Chiefs  against 
Thebes  under  the  inspiration  of  Mars  himself.  If  Shake- 
speare's Henry  V  had  been  written  for  the  Greeks,  they 
would  have  paid  him  the  same  compliment." 


xxiu 


COMMENTS 

By  Shakespearean  Scholars 

HENRY  V 

Henry  V  is,  in  all  essentials,  Prince  Hal  grown  to  ma- 
turity and  seated  on  a  throne.  The  abandonment  of  the 
looser  habits  of  his  youth,  which  had  been  in  progress  dur- 
ing Henry  IV,  Part  II,  has  now  been  completed.  The 
Archbishop  of  Canterbury  shows  some  lack  of  insight  when 
he  declares  of  the  King,  after  his  father's  death : 

"Never  was  such  a  sudden  scholar  made; 
Never  came  reformation  in  a  flood, 
With  such  a  heady  currance,  scouring  faults." 

His  brother  of  Ely  is  more  penetrating  when  he  compares 
Henry  to  the  strawberry  that  grows  underneath  the  net- 
tle: "so  the  prince  obscured  his  contemplation  under  the 
veil  of  wildness."  But  if  Henry  has  shaken  off  his  youth- 
ful follies,  he  has  retained  his  faculty  for  adapting  him- 
self to  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men.  As  in  Eastcheap 
he  had  caught  the  very  spirit  of  ale-house  freemasonry,  so 
in  his  altered  sphere  he  excites  the  wonder  of  all  hearers  by 
discoursing  upon  divinity,  war,  and  statecraft,  as  if  each 
had  been  his  peculiar  and  lifelong  interest.  The  charm 
that  had  formerly  been  felt  by  roistering  "Corinthians"  is 
now  exercised  over  grave  prelates,  who  vote  him  an  unpre- 
cedently  large  subsidy  for  an  expedition  against  France. 
In  entering  upon  this  foreign  quarrel  Henry  is  carrying 
out  his  father's  death-bed  counsel,  but  from  the  first  he 
shows  that  his  policy  is  to  be  swayed,  not  by  Machiavellian 
canons  of  self-interest,  but  by  principles  of  equity.  Hen- 
ry's moral  integrity  deepens,  after  his  coronation,  into  pro- 

xxiv 


KING   HENRY   V  Comments 

found  religious  feeling,  while  his  modesty  takes  the  form 
of  humble  dependence  upon  God,  whose  name  is  henceforth 
constantly  upon  his  lips.  Thus,  before  waking  the  sleep- 
ing sword  of  war,  he  asks  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury 
whether  he  may,  "with  right  and  conscience,"  make  the 
claim  to  the  French  throne,  handed  down  from  his  heroic 
ancestors,  the  two  Edwards.  The  Archbishop's  lengthy  ex- 
position of  the  Salic  law  may  neither  satisfy  the  strict  re- 
quirements of  poetry  nor  of  accurate  historical  jurispru- 
dence, but  it  is  sufficient  to  convince  Henry  of  the  justice 
of  his  cause. — Boas,  Shakespere  and  his  Predecessors. 

Henry  V  completes  the  evolution  of  the  royal  butterfly 
from  the  larva  and  chrysalis  stages  of  the  earlier  plays. 
Henry  is  at  once  the  monarch  who  always  thinks  royally, 
and  never  forgets  his  pride  as  the  representative  of  the 
English  people;  the  man  with  no  pose  or  arrogance,  who 
bears  himself  simply,  talks  modestly,  acts  energetically, 
and  thinks  piously ;  the  soldier  who  endures  privations  like 
the  meanest  of  his  followers,  is  downright  in  his  jesting  and 
his  wooing,  and  enforces  discipline  with  uncompromising 
strictness,  even  as  against  his  own  old  comrades  ;  and  finally, 
the  citizen  who  is  accessible  alike  to  small  and  great,  and  in 
whom  the  youthful  frolicsomeness  of  earlier  days  has  be- 
come the  humorist's  relish  for  a  practical  joke,  like  that 
which  he  plays  off  upon  Williams  and  Fluellen.  Shake- 
speare shows  him,  like  a  military  Haroun  Al  Raschid,  seek- 
ing personally  to  insinuate  himself  into  the  thoughts  and 
feelings  of  his  followers ;  and — what  is  very  unlike  him — he 
manifests  no  disapproval  where  the  King  sinks  far  below 
the  ideal,  as  when  he  orders  the  frightful  massacre  of  all 
the  French  prisoners  taken  at  Agincourt.  Shakespeare 
tries  to  pass  the  deed  off  as  a  measure  of  necessity. — 
Beandes,  William  Shakespeare, 

In  Harry  the  Fifth,  as  king  regnant,  we  still  trace  some 
of  the  limitation  of  mind  that  we  noticed  in  the  companion 
of  FalstafF;  the  active  energies  are  more  powerful  in  him 


Comments  THE   LIFE   OF 

than  the  reflective ;  engrossed  by  a  pursuit  or  a  passion,  his 
whole  nature  is  promptly  cooperant  in  furtherance  of  it, 
but  he  can  never,  even  for  a  moment,  so  far  disengage  him- 
self from  it  as  to  take  any  other  point  of  view.  In  his 
night  talk  with  the  soldiers  the  limitations  of  minds,  sophis- 
ticated by  station  and  unsophisticated,  mutually  define 
each  other.  Private  Williams  and  private  John  Bates  have 
a  clear  and  honest  sense  of  royal  responsibility ;  their  own 
duty  is  to  obey  and  to  fight  bravely,  but  it  is  for  the  king 
to  look  to  the  justice  of  the  cause  and  be  answerable  for 
it — and  answerable,  moreover,  for  some  unrepented  sins  of 
those  whom  a  false  quarrel  may  bring  to  death  prematurely 
and  in  ill  blood; — a  clear  principle  enough  and  palpable 
to  plain  sense,  and,  in  fact,  the  very  touchstone  of  the 
moral  position  of  Henry  in  the  action  of  the  play.  His 
reply  at  the  moment,  and  his  soliloquy  after,  are  sufficiently 
in  harmony  to  evince  the  sincerity  of  his  reply,  and  thus 
to  prove  that  he  is  as  unconsciously  blind  when  he  an- 
swers with  plausible  detail  a  different  question  to  that  which 
is  proposed,  as  the  questioners  who  accept  his  conclusions 
and  leave  satisfied.  With  lucid  expositions  he  proves  that 
if  a  sinful  servant  miscarry  on  a  lawful  errand,  the  imputa- 
tion of  his  wickedness  cannot  justly  lie  on  the  master  who 
so  dispatched  him,  whereas  the  hypothesis  laid  out  that  the 
errand  was  unlawful,  and  made  no  question  of  the  serv- 
ant not  answering  for  himself,  but  of  his  damnation  aggra- 
vating that  of  his  master,  not  being  transferred  to  him. 
The  soldiers  are  not  acute  enough  to  check  this  logic,  and 
freely  admit  the  new  case  stated.  Williams,  however,  has 
still  a  genuine  English  jealousy  of  royal  sincerity,  and  the 
renewed  difference  leads  to  the  challenge.  The  king  left 
alone  reverts  to  the  earlier  discussion,  and  a  careless  reader, 
interpreting  by  his  own  impulses,  too  often  assumes  in  the 
opening  reflections,  that  suddenly  alone,  the  awful  sense 
of  regal  responsibility  rushes  upon  his  mind  and  finds  his 
feeling  conscience.  No  such  thing ;  in  mingling  indigna- 
tion and  discontent  he  reflects  on  the  ingratitude  of  the  sub- 
ject, commiserates  the  hardship  of  his  own,  the  royal  lot, 


KING   HENRY   V  Comments 

runs  through  the  evils  of  the  station  with  which  dignity  is 
coupled,  and  then  contrasting,  as  his  father  had  done  before 
him,  the  superior  happiness  and  ease  of  the  lowly,  he  slides 
insensibly  into  such  a  description  with  such  epithets,  of  a 
state  of  existence  divided  between  toil  and  mere  insensi- 
bility, as  convicts  his  complaints  of  self-imposing  aflPecta- 
tion  at  last. — Lloyd,  Critical  Essays. 

It  is  clear  and  unquestionably  that  King  Henry  V  is 
Shakspere's  ideal  of  the  practical  heroic  character.  He  is 
the  king  who  will  not  fail.  He  will  not  fail  as  the  saintly 
Henry  VI  failed,  nor  as  Richard  II  failed,  a  hectic,  self- 
indulgent  nature,  a  mockery  king  of  pageantry,  and  senti- 
ment, and  rhetoric ;  nor  will  he  only  partially  succeed  by 
prudential  devices,  and  stratagems,  and  crimes,  like  his 
father,  "great  Bolingbroke."  The  success  of  Henry  V  will 
be  sound  throughout,  and  it  will  be  complete.  With  his 
glorious  practical  virtues,  his  courage,  his  integrity,  his 
unfaltering  justice,  his  hearty  English  warmth,  his  mod- 
esty, his  love  of  plainness  rather  than  of  pageantry,  his 
joyous  temper,  his  business-like  English  piety,  Henry  is 
indeed  the  ideal  of  the  king  who  must  attain  a  success  com- 
plete, and  thoroughly  real  and  sound. — Dowden,  Shak- 
spere — His  Mi/nd  and  Art. 

Henry  V  is  a  very  favorite  monarch  with  the  English 
nation,  and  he  appears  to  have  been  also  a  favorite  with 
Shakcspear,  who  labors  hard  to  apologize  for  the  actions 
of  the  king,  by  showing  us  the  character  of  the  man,  as 
"the  king  of  good  fellows."  He  scarcely  deserves  this 
honor.  He  was  fond  of  war  and  low  company : — we  know 
little  else  of  him.  He  was  careless,  dissolute,  and  am- 
bitious ; — idle,  or  doing  mischief.  In  private,  he  seemed  to 
have  no  idea  of  the  common  decencies  of  life,  which  he 
subjected  to  a  kind  of  regal  licence;  in  public  affairs,  he 
seemed  to  have  no  idea  of  any  rule  of  right  or  wrong,  but 
brute  force,  glossed  over  with  a  little  religious  hypocrisy 
and  archiepiscopal  advice.      His  principles  did  not  change 

xxvii 


Comments  THE    LIFE    OF 

with  his  situation  and  professions.  His  adventure  on  Gads- 
hill  was  a  prelude  to  the  affair  of  Agincourt,  only  a  blood- 
less one ;  Falstaff  was  a  puny  prompter  of  violence  and  out- 
rage, compared  with  the  pious  and  politic  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury,  who  gave  the  king  carte  blanche,  in  a  genea- 
logical tree  of  his  family,  to  rob  and  murder  in  circles  of 
latitude  and  longitude  abroad — to  save  the  possessions  of 
the  church  at  home.  This  appears  in  the  speeches  in 
Shakespear,  where  the  hidden  motives  that  actuate  princes 
and  their  advisers  in  war  and  policy  are  better  laid  open 
than  in  speeches  from  the  throne  or  woolsack.  Henry, 
because  he  did  not  know  how  to  govern  his  own  kingdom, 
determined  to  make  war  upon  his  neighbors.  Because  his 
own  title  to  the  crown  was  doubtful,  he  laid  claim  to  that 
of  France.  Because  he  did  not  know  how  to  exercise  the 
enormous  power,  which  had  just  dropped  into  his  hands, 
to  any  one  good  purpose,  he  immediately  undertook  (a 
cheap  and  obvious  resource  of  sovereignty)  to  do  all  the 
mischief  he  could.  Even  if  absolute  monarchs  had  the  wit 
to  find  out  objects  of  laudable  ambition,  they  could  only 
"plume  up  their  wills"  in  adhering  to  the  more  sacred 
formula  of  the  royal  prerogative,  "the  right  divine  of 
kings  to  govern  wrong,"  because  will  is  only  then  tri- 
umphant when  it  is  opposed  to  the  will  of  others,  because 
the  pride  of  power  is  only  then  shown,  not  when  it  con- 
sults the  rights  and  interests  of  others,  but  when  it  in- 
sults and  tramples  on  all  justice  and  all  humanity. 
Henry  declares  his  resolution  "when  France  is  his,  to 
bend  it  to  his  awe,  or  break  it  all  to  pieces" — a  resolution 
worthy  of  a  conqueror,  to  destroy  all  that  he  cannot  en- 
slave; and  what  adds  to  the  joke,  he  lays  all  the  blame  of 
the  consequences  of  his  ambition  on  those  who  will  not  sub- 
mit tamely  to  his  tyranny. — Hazutt,  Characters  of  Shake- 
spear's  Plays. 


XXVlll 


KING   HENRY   V  Comments 


MARRIAGE  OF  HENRY  V  AND  KATHARINE 

England  had  had  her  days  of  gloom,  and  was  destined, 
as  the  result  of  these  very  famous  victories,  to  have  days 
of  still  deeper  misery ;  but  over  the  marriage  of  Henry 
and  Katharine,  there  were  no  shadows.  No  birds  of  evil 
omen  perched  above  the  broad  pennon  of  the  warrior  king. 
All  voices  joined  in  shouts  of  Te  Deum  Laudamus,  and 
the  poet  sings  his  song  of  triumph  clear  and  brilliantly, 
without  a  false  note  or  jarring  harmony,  to  the  last  bar, 
and,  in  spite  of  his  own  words,  with  no  "rough  and  all  un- 
able pen," 

Our  bending  author  hath  pursued  the  story. 
In  little  room  confining  mighty  men. 

— Wakner,  English  History  in  SJiakespeare^s  Plays. 


FLUELLEN 

Among  the  more  serious  popular  characters — the  steady, 
worthy  Gower,  the  rough  Williams,  and  the  dry  Bates — 
the  Welshman  Fluellen,  the  king's  countryman,  is  the  cen- 
tral point.  He  is,  as  the  king  himself  says,  a  man  of 
"much  care  and  valor,"  but  "out  of  fashion."  Compared 
with  the  former  companions  of  the  prince,  he  Is  like  dis- 
cipline opposed  to  licence,  like  pedantry  opposed  to  disso- 
luteness, conscientiousness  to  Impiety,  learning  to  rudeness, 
temperance  to  intoxication,  and  veiled  bravery  to  concealed 
cowardice.  Contrasted  with  those  boasters,  he  appears  at 
first  a  "collier"  who  pockets  every  affront.  In  common 
with  his  royal  countryman,  he  is  not  what  he  seems.  Be- 
hind little  caprices  and  awkward  peculiarities  Is  hidden 
an  honest,  brave  nature,  which  should  be  exhibited  by  the 
actor,  as  It  was  by  Hippisley  in  Garrick's  time,  without 
playfulness  or  caricature.  Open  and  true,  he  suffers  him- 
self to  be  deceived  for  a  time  by  Pistol's  bragging,  then 
he  seems  coldly  to  submit  to  insult  from  him,  but  he  makes 

xxix 


Comments  THE   LIFE   OF 

him  smart  for  it  thoroughly  after  the  battle,  and  then  gives 
him  "a  groat  to  heal  his  broken  pate."  He  settles  the 
business  on  which  Henry  sets  him  against  Williams,  and 
which  brings  him  a  blow,  and  when  the  king  rewards  Wil- 
liams with  a  glove  full  of  crowns,  he  will  not  be  behind  in 
generosity,  and  gives  him  a  shilling.  He  speaks  good  and 
bad  of  his  superiors,  ever  according  to  truth,  deeply  con- 
vinced of  the  importance  of  his  praise  and  blame,  but  he 
would  do  his  duty  under  each.  He  is  talkative  in  the 
wrong  place,  takes  the  word  from  the  lips  of  others,  and  is 
indignant  when  it  is  taken  from  him ;  but  in  the  night  be- 
fore the  battle  he  knows  how  to  keep  himself  quiet  and 
calm,  for  nothing  surpasses  to  him  the  discipline  of  the 
Roman  wars,  in  which  this  is  enjoined.  The  cold  man 
flashes  forth  warmly  like  the  king  when  the  French  commit 
the  act,  so  contrary  to  the  law  of  arms,  of  killing  the  sol- 
diers' boys.  At  the  time  of  his  respect  for  Pistol,  the  lat- 
ter begs  him  to  intercede  for  the  church-robber  Bardolph, 
but  he  made  his  appeal  to  the  wrong  man.  It  is  a  matter 
of  discipline,  in  which  Fluellen  is  inexorable.  Indeed  he 
especially  esteems  his  countryman  king  for  having  freed 
himself  of  these  old  companions.  This  is  the  essential 
point  to  him  in  his  learned  comparison  between  Henry  V 
and  Alexander  the  Great,  that  the  latter  killed  his  friends  in 
his  intoxication,  while  the  former  turned  away  his  when 
he  was  "in  his  right  wits."  Since  then  his  countryman  is 
inscribed  in  his  honest  scrupulous  heart,  though  before  he 
had  certainly  made  little  of  the  dissolute  fellow ;  now  he 
cares  not  who  knows  that  he  is  the  king's  countryman,  he 
needs  not  to  be  ashamed  of  him  "so  long  as  his  majesty  is 
an  honest  man."  Happy  it  is  that  the  noble  Henry  can 
utter  a  cordial  amen  to  this  remark,  "God  keep  me  so ;"  his 
captain  Fluellen  would  at  once  renounce  his  friendship  if 
he  learned  from  him  his  first  dishonorable  trick.  The  self- 
contentedness  of  an  integrity,  unshaken  indeed,  but  also 
never  exposed  to  any  temptation,  is  excellently  designed  in 
all  the  features  of  this  character. — Gervinus,  Shakespeare 
Commentaries. 


KING   HENRY    V  Comments 


THE  MOTIVE  OF  THE  PLAY 

The  principal  historical  feature,  the  description  of  the 
spirit  of  the  age  with  its  relations  to  the  past,  and  the 
character  of  the  two  belligerent  nations  is  brought  out  in 
a  truly  dramatic  style,  by  giving  the  utmost  animation  to 
the  action.     Henry  IV,  on  his  death-bed,  had  counselled  his 

son  to  engage 

"Giddy  minds 
With  foreign  quarrels." 

And,  in  fact,  "giddiness"  and  vacillation  were  the  leading 
features  in  the  character  of  the  age ;  the  reason  of  this  lay 
not  only  in  the  unjust  usurpation  of  Henry  IV,  which, 
owing  to  the  close  connection  existing  between  the  state  and 
its  various  members,  exercised  its  influence  on  the  barons 
and  people,  but  also  in  the  progressive  development  of  the 
state  and  of  the  nation  itself.  The  corporative  estates  of 
the  kingdom,  the  clergy,  knights  and  burghers,  incited  by 
an  esprit  de  corps  and  by  their  well-ordered  organization, 
felt  their  power  and  endeavored  to  assert  it,  both  against 
the  royal  power  and  against  one  another.  Their  dis- 
putes among  one  another  would  have  been  of  more  fre- 
quent occurrence  had  it  not  been  for  the  fact  that,  in  di- 
rect contrast  to  the  French  nobility,  the  English  barons 
generally  sided  with  the  commoners,  so  as  mutually  to  pro- 
tect their  rights  against  the  pretensions  of  the  crown. 
Each  of  these  several  parties  endeavored  to  promote  their 
own  interests  and  to  act  with  the  greatest  possible  amount 
of  freedom ;  their  active  strength  naturally  strove  to  find 
a  vigorous  sphere  of  action  and  would  have  consumed 
itself,  and  thus  internally  destroyed  the  organism  of  the 
state,  had  it  not  succeeded  in  obtaining  vent  in  an  out- 
ward direction.  In  France,  on  the  other  hand,  the  vanity, 
the  excessive  arrogance  of  the  court,  the  nobility  and  the 
people  desired  war  in  order  to  realize  their  proud  dream 
of  internal  and  external  superiority;  the  historical  course 
of  the  nation's  culture  required  that  it  should  be  thoroughly 

xxxi 


Comments  THE   LIFE  OF 

humbled  by  misery  and  wretchedness,  otherwise  it  would 
have  decayed  prematurely  through  extravagance  and 
effeminate  luxury.  Moreover  in  France  also,  the  organism 
of  the  state  was  broken  up  into  so  many  separate  and  inde- 
pendent corporations  that  it  required  a  great  and  general 
interest,  a  great  national  disaster  to  preserve  their  con- 
sciousness of  mutual  dependence  and  unity. — UiiBici, 
Shakespeare's  Dramatic  Art. 

THE  DRAMATIC  STRUCTURE 

The  dramatic  structure  is  not  of  a  normal  type ;  and  this 
may  be  implied  from  the  mere  presence  of  a  chorus  in  front 
of  each  act ;  briefly,  we  have  a  combination  of  the  two 
methods,  the  dramatic  and  the  epic ;  the  story  is  told 
mostly  by  action  and  dialogue,  but  partly  by  an  extra- 
dramatic  narrator.  To  this  composite  treatment  Shake- 
speare was  driven  by  the  scope  and  grandeur  of  his  sub- 
ject, and,  as  is  true  of  nearly  all  his  experiments,  the 
composite  method  was  successful.  It  is  customary,  how- 
ever, to  compare  the  Choruses  that  link  the  episodes  of 
Henry  V  with  their  predecessors  in  the  classic  drama;  cus- 
tomary also  to  assert  that  they  have  nothing  in  common 
with  the  latter.  But  the  brief  truth  is  that  the  nature  and 
the  function  of  the  classic  chorus  was  variable ;  that  the 
Chorus  in  Henry  V  assumes  much  of  this  nature  and  many 
of  these  functions,  while  it  adds  yet  others — "prologue- 
like" says  the  poet  himself.  Apart,  moreover,  from  their 
dramatic  functions,  these  Choruses  are  epic  in  some  of 
their  aspects:  "O  for  a  Muse  of  fire  that  would  ascend 
The  brightest  heaven  of  invention." 

They  are  finely  l^^rical,  and  they  are  odes  to  the  glory 
of  a  king,  supplying  in  this  particular  wha^  would  be  im- 
possible in  drama.  In  fact,  almost  every  instrument  of 
poetic  music  may  be  heard  in  this  magnificent  orchestra  of 
Henry  V,  which  remains  not  least  among  the  glories  of  the 
nation  that  it  glorified. — Luce,  Handbook  to  Shakespeare's 
Works. 


KING   HENRY   V  Comments 


LYRIC  GRANDEUR  OF  THE  SUBJECT 

The  didactic  lessons  of  moral  prudence, — the  brief  sen- 
tentious precepts, — the  descriptions  of  high  actions  and 
high  passions, — are  alien  from  the  whole  spirit  of  Shak- 
spere's  drama.  The  Henry  V  constitutes  an  exception  to 
the  general  rules  upon  which  he  worked.  "High  actions" 
are  here  described  as  well  as  exhibited;  and  high  passions, 
in  the  Shaksperian  sense  of  the  term,  scarcely  make  their 
appearance  upon  the  scene.  Here  are  no  struggles  be- 
tween  wilL-apd  fate; — no  frailties  of  humanity  dragging 
down  its  virtues  into  an  abyss  of  guilt  and  sorrow, — no 
crimes,— no  obduracy, — no  penitence.  We  have  the  lofty 
and  unconquerable  spirit  of  national  and  individual  hero- 
ism riding  triumphantly  over  every  danger;  but  the  spirit 
is  so  lofty  that  we  feel  no  uncertainty  for  the  issue.  We 
should  know,  even  if  we  had  no  foreknowledge  of  the  event, 
that  it  must  conquer.  We  can  scarcely  weep  over  those 
who  fall  in  that  "glorious  and  well-foughten  field,"  for 
"they  kept  together  in  their  chivalry,"  and  their  last  words 
sound  as  a  glorious  hymn  of  exultation.  The  subject  is 
altogether  one  of  lyric  grandeur;  but  it  is  not  one,  we 
think,  which  Shakspere  would  have  chosen  for  a  drama. — 
Knight,  Pictorial  Shakspere. 


xxxin 


THE  LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  V 


DRAMATIS  PERSONiE 

King  Henry  the  Fifth 

Duke  of  Gloucester,  i  ,      .,        ^     ^-l     ry- 

Duke  of  Bedford,         }  ^'''^^'''  ^^  ^^'  ^»«^ 

Duke  of  Exeter,  uncle  to  the  King 

Duke  of  York,  cousin  to  the  King 

Earls  of  Sausbury,  Westmorei^nd,  and  Warwick 

Archbishop  of  Canterbury 

Bishop  of  Ely 

Earl  of  Cambridge 

Lord  Scroop 

Sir  Thomas  Grey 

Sib    Thomas    Erpingham,    Goweh,    Fluellen,    Macmorbis,    Jamt, 

opicers  in  King  Henry's  army 
Bates,  Court,  Williams,  soldiers  in  the  same 
Pistol,  Nym,  Bardolpk 
Boy 
A  Herald 

Charles  the  Sixth,  King  of  Prance 

Lewis,  the  Dauphin 

Dukes  of  Burgundy,  Orleans,  and  Boubbok' 

The  Constable  of  France 

Rambures  and  Grandpr^,  French  Lordt 

Governor  of  Harfleur 

Montjoy,  a  French  Herald 

Ambassadors  to  the  King  of  England 

Isabel,  Queen  of  France 
Katharine,  daughter  to  Charles  and  Isabel 
Alice,  a  lady  attending  on  her 

Hostess  of  a  tavern  in  Eastcheap,  formerly  Mistress  Quickly,  and 
now  married  to  Pistol 

Lords,  Ladies,  OfScers,  Soldiers,  Citizens,  Messengers,  and  Attendants 

Chorus 

Scene:  England;  afterwards  France 


SYNOPSIS 

By  J.  Ellis  Buedick 

ACT    I 

Henry  V  resolves  to  claim  the  throne  of  France,  basing 
his  authority  on  the  old  Salic  law.  He  first  demands  cer- 
tain provinces  and  in  reply  the  Dauphin  sends  him  a  bag 
of  tennis-balls,  evidently  thinking  that  the  English  king 
has  not  outgrown  his  wild  youth.  Henry  then  declares 
war. 

ACT  n 

Sir  John  Falstaff  and  his  friends  cannot  understand  the 
commendable  change  in  the  character  of  the  king,  who  has 
dismissed  the  wild  associates  of  his  youth.  Falstaff  dies 
of  a  broken  heart.  All  England  wishes  success  and  con- 
quest to  attend  the  king  in  his  invasion  of  France.  The 
French,  fearing  for  their  country,  bribe  three  English 
nobles  to  murder  the  king  before  his  embarkation  at  South 
Hampton.  But  the  plot  is  discovered  in  time  and  the  con- 
spirators put  to  death. 

ACT   ni 

The  city  of  Harfleur  in  France  is  besieged  and  taken  by 
the  English.  Sickness  and  lack  of  food  weaken  the  Eng- 
lish army,  but  nevertheless  the  king,  relying  upon  the 
bravery  of  his  men,  pitches  his  camp  at  Agincourt,  well- 
knowing  that  the  French  will  give  battle  there. 

ACT    IV 

The  English  prepare  energetically  for  the  battle,  the 
king  himself  in  disguise  going  through  the  camp  and  talk- 

3 


Synopsis  KING  HENRY  V 

ing  with  the  soldiers.  So  certain  are  the  French  of  vic- 
tory on  the  morrow,  that  httle  preparation  is  made  by 
them.  At  daybreak  the  Dauphin's  forces  are  overwhelm- 
ingly defeated. 

ACT    V 

The  French  ask  for  peace.  This  Henry  agrees  to  when 
the  French  have  yielded  to  his  conditions.  He  demands 
that  he  be  recognized  as  heir  to  the  French  throne,  and  that 
Katharine,  daughter  of  the  French  king,  be  given  him  in 
marriage. 


THE  LIFE  OF 

KING  HENRY  V 

PROLOGUE 

Enter  Chorus. 

Chor.  O  for  a  Muse  of  fire,  that  would  ascend 
The  brightest  heaven  of  invention, 
A  kingdom  for  a  stage,  princes  to  act 
And  monarchs  to  behold  the  swelling  scene! 
Then  should  the  warlike  Harry,  like  himself, 
Assume  the  port  of  Mars ;  and  at  his  heels, 
Leash'd  in  like  hounds,  should  famine,  sword 

and  fire 
Crouch   for  employment.     But  pardon,   gen- 
tles all. 
The  flat  unraised  spirits  that  have  dared 
On  this  unworthy  scaffold  to  bring  forth       10 
So  great  an  object:  can  this  cockpit  hold 
The  vasty  fields  of  France?  or  may  we  cram 

7.  "famine,  sword  and  fire";  this  trio  is  probably  suggested  by  a 
speech  of  Henry's,  as  reported  by  Holinshed,  in  which  he  replies  to 
suppliant  citizens,  during  his  siege  of  Rouen  (1419),  that  Bellona, 
the  goddess  of  battle,  had  three  handmaidens  .  .  .  blood,  fire, 
and  famine,  all  of  which  were  at  his  choice  to  use  {Hoi.  iii.  367,  ed. 
Stone).— C.  H.  H. 

9.  "spirits  that  have  dared";  so  Staunton;  Ff.  1,  2,  3,  "hath";  F. 
4,  "spirit,  that  hath."— I.  G. 

5 


THE  LIFE  OF 

Within  this  wooden  O  the  very  casques 
That  did  affright  the  air  at  Agincourt? 
O,  pardon!  since  a  crooked  figure  may- 
Attest  in  Httle  place  a  million ; 
And  let  us,  ciphers  to  this  great  accompt, 
On  your  imaginary  forces  work. 
Suppose  within  the  girdle  of  these  walls 
Are  now  confined  two  mighty  monarchies,    20 
Whose  high  upreared  and  abutting  fronts 
The  perilous  narrow  ocean  parts  asunder: 
Piece  out  our  imperfections  with  your  thoughts ; 
Into  a  thousand  parts  divide  one  man, 
And  make  imaginary  puissance; 
Think,  when  we  talk  of  horses,  that  you  see 

them 
Printing  their  proud  hoofs  i'  the  receiving  earth ; 
For  'tis  your  thoughts  that  now  must  deck  our 

kings. 
Carry  them  here  and  there;  jumping  o'er  times. 
Turning  the  accomplishment  of  many  years  30 
Into  an  hour-glass :  for  the  which  supply. 
Admit  me  Chorus  to  this  history; 
Who  prologue-like  your  humble  patience  pray. 
Gently  to  hear,  kindly  to  judge,  our  play. 

[Eant. 

13.  The  "Wooden  O"  was  the  Globe  Theater  on  the  Bankside, 
which  was  circular  withinside. — It  would  seem  that  "very"  was 
sometimes  used  in  the  sense  of  mere.  "The  very  casques";  that 
is,  "so  much  as  the  casques,"  or  "merely  the  casques."  So  in  The 
Taming  of  the  Shrew:  "Thou  false  deluding  slave,  that  feed'st  me 
with  the  very  name  of  meat." — H.  N.  H. 

18.  "on  your  imaginary  forces  work" ;  that  is,  your  powers  of 
imagination:  imaginary  for  imaginative.  This  indifferent  use  of  the 
active  and  passive  forms  occurs  continually  in  these  plays. — H.  N.  H. 

25.  "puissance";  (three  syllables). — C.  H.  H. 

6 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  i.  Sc.  i. 


ACT  FIRST 
Scene  I 

London.    An  ante-Chamber  in  the  King's  palace. 

Enter  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  and  the 
Bishop  of  Ely. 

Cant.  My  lord,  I  '11  tell  you ;  that  self  bill  is  urged, 
Which  in  the  eleventh  year  of  the  last  king's 

reign 
Was  like,  and  had  indeed  against  us  pass'd. 
But  that  the  scambling  and  unquiet  time 
Did  push  it  out  of  farther  question. 

Ely.  But  how,  my  lord,  shall  we  resist  it  now? 

Cant.  It  must  be  thought  on.     If  it  pass  against 
us, 
We  lose  the  better  half  of  our  possession: 
For  all  the  temporal  lands,  which  men  devout 
By  testament  have  given  to  the  church,  10 

Would  they  strip  from  us;  being  valued  thus: 
As  much  as  would  maintain,  to  the  king's  honor. 
Full  fifteen  earls  and  fifteen  hundred  knights. 
Six  thousand  and  two  hundred  good  esquires; 

8c.  1.  "Canterbury";  this  was  Henrie  Chichele.  Shakespeare  fol- 
lows the  chronicles  in  attributing  to  him  the  chief  share  in  the 
clerical  plot  for  diverting  the  king's  attention  from  his  confiscation 
bill.— C.  H.  H. 

7-19.  This  is  taken  almost  literally  from  Holinshed. — H.  N.  H. 

7 


Act  I.  Sc.  i.  iTHE  LIFE  OE 

And,  to  relief  of  lazars  and  weak  age, 
Of  indigent  faint  souls  past  corporal  toil, 
A  hundred  almshouses  right  well  supplied; 
And  to  the  coffers  of  the  king  beside, 
A  thousand  pounds  by  the  year:  thus  runs  the 
biU. 

Ely.  This  would  drink  deep. 

Cant.  'Twould  drink  the  cup  and  all.  20 

Ely,  But  what  prevention? 

Cant.  The  king  is  full  of  grace  and  fair  regard. 

Ely.  And  a  true  lover  of  the  holy  church. 

Cant.  The  courses  of  his  youth  promised  it  not. 
The  breath  no  sooner  left  his  father's  body. 
But  that  his  wildness,  mortified  in  him, 
Seem'd  to  die  too ;  yea,  at  that  very  moment, 
Consideration  like  an  angel  came 
And  whipp'd  the  offending  Adam  out  of  him. 
Leaving  his  body  as  a  paradise,  30 

To  envelope  and  contain  celestial  spirits. 
Never  was  such  a  sudden  scholar  made; 
Never  came  reformation  in  a  flood. 
With  such  a  heady  currance,  scouring  faults; 
Nor  never  Hydra-headed  willfulness 
So  soon  did  lose  his  seat,  and  all  at  once. 
As  in  this  king. 

Ely.  We  are  blessed  in  the  change. 

Cant.  Hear  him  but  reason  in  divinity. 
And  all-admiring  with  an  inward  wish 
You  would  desire  the  king  were  made  a  prelate : 

19.  "A  thousand  pounds  by  the  year";  "Hall  and  Holinshed  the 
principal  sum.  'And  the  king  to  have  clerely  to  his  cofers  twentie 
tliousand  poundes'  (Hall).  Shakespeare  reckons  interest  therefore 
at  five  per  cent"  (Wright).— C,  H.  H. 

8 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  I.  Sc.  i. 

Hear  him  debate  of  commonwealth  affairs,  41 

You  would  say  it  hath  been  all  in  all  his  study : 

List  his  discourse  of  war,  and  you  shall  hear 

A  fearful  battle  render'd  you  in  music : 

Turn  him  to  any  cause  of  policy. 

The  Gordian  knot  of  it  he  will  unloose, 

Familiar  as  his  garter:  that,  when  he  speaks. 

The  air,  a  charter'd  libertine,  is  still. 

And  the  mute  wonder  lurketh  in  men's  ears. 

To  steal  his  sweet  and  honey'd  sentences ;         50 

So  that  the  art  and  practic  part  of  life 

Must  be  the  mistress  to  this  theoric: 

Which  is  a  wonder  how  his  grace  should  glean  it, 

Since  his  addiction  was  to  courses  vain, 

His  companies  unletter'd,  rude  and  shallow, 

51,  52.  That  is,  he  must  have  drawn  his  theory,  digested  his  order 
and  method  of  thought,  from  the  art  and  practice  of  life,  instead 
of  shaping  the  latter  by  the  rules  and  measures  of  the  former: 
which  is  strange,  since  he  has  never  been  seen  in  the  way  either 
of  learning  the  things  in  question  by  experience,  or  of  digesting 
the  fruits  of  experience  into  theory.  Practic  and  theoric,  or  prac- 
tique  and  theorique,  were  the  old  spelling  of  practice  and  theory. 
An  apt  commentary  on  the  text  occurs  in  A  Treatise  of  Human 
Learning,  by  Lord  Brooke,  who  was  a  star  in  the  same  constella- 
tion with  Shakespeare,  and  one  of  the  profoundest  thinkers  of  the 
time. 

"Againe,  the  active,  necessarie  arts 
Ought  to  be  briefe  in  bookes,  in  practise  long: 
Short  precepts  may  extend  to  many  parts; 
The  practise  must  be  large,  or  not  be  strong. 
For  if  these  two  be  in  one  ballance  weigh'd. 
The  artless  use  bears  down  the  useless  art. 
The  world  should  therefore  her  instructions  draw 
Backe  unto  life  and  actions,  whence  they  came; 
That  practise,  which  gave  being,  might  give  law, 
To  make  them  short,  cleare,  fruitful!  unto  man: 
As  God  made  all  for  use,  even  so  must  she 
By  chance  and  use  uphold  her  mystery." — H.  N.  H. 

9 


Act  I.  Sc.  i.  THE  LIFE  OF 

His  hours  fill'd  up  with  riots,  banquets,  sports, 
And  never  noted  in  him  any  study, 
Any  retirement,  any  sequestration 
From  open  haunts  and  popularity. 

Ely.  The  strawberry  grows  underneath  the  nettle. 
And  wholesome  berries  thrive  and  ripen  best  61 
Neighbor'd  by  fruit  of  baser  quality : 
And  so  the  prince  obscured  his  contemplation 
Under  the  veil  of  wildness ;  which,  no  doubt. 
Grew  Hke  the  summer  grass,  fastest  by  night, 
Unseen,  yet  crescive  in  his  faculty. 

Cant.  It  must  be  so;  for  miracles  are  ceased; 

And  therefore  we  must  needs  admit  the  means 
How  things  are  perfected. 

Ely.  But,  my  good  lord. 

How  now  for  mitigation  of  this  bill  70 

Urged  by  the  commons?    Doth  his  majesty 
Incline  to  it,  or  no? 

Cant  He  seems  indiiFerent, 

Or  rather  swaying  more  upon  our  part 
Than  cherishing  the  exhibiters  against  us; 
For  I  have  made  an  offer  to  his  majesty. 
Upon  our  spiritual  convocation 
And  in  regard  of  causes  now  in  hand. 
Which  I  have  open'd  to  his  grace  at  large, 

61,  62.  "wholesome  berries,"  etc.;  it  has  been  pointed  out  that 
Montaigne  expresses  this  idea  more  explicitly  in  a  passage  (iii.  9) 
which  Shakespeare  perhaps  knew  in  the  original.  In  Florio's  trans- 
lation (1603)  it  runs:  "Roses  and  Violets  are  ever  the  sweeter  and 
more  odoriferous,  that  grow  neere  under  Garlike  and  Onions,  for- 
asmuch as  they  suck  and  draw  all  the  ill  savours  of  the  ground 
unto  them."— C,  H.  H. 

66.  "crescive  in  his  faculty";  increasing  in  virtue  of  its  latent 
capacity.— C.  H.  H. 

10 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  i.  Sc.  i. 

As  touching  France,  to  give  a  greater  sum 
Than  ever  at  one  time  the  clergy  yet  80 

Did  to  his  predecessors  part  withal. 

Ely.  How  did  this  offer  seem  received,  my  lord? 

Cant.  With  good  acceptance  of  his  majesty; 
Save  that  there  was  not  time  enough  to  hear, 
As  I  perceived  his  grace  would  fain  have  done. 
The  severals  and  unhidden  passages 
Of  his  true  titles  to  some  certain  dukedoms. 
And  generally  to  the  crown  and  seat  of  France, 
Derived  from  Edward,  his  great-grandfather. 

Ely.  What  was  the  impediment  that  broke  this 
off?  90 

Cant.  The  French  ambassador  upon  that  instant 
Craved  audience ;  and  the  hour,  I  think,  is  come 
To  give  him  hearing:  is  it  four  o'clock? 

Ely.  It  is. 

Cant.  Then  go  we  in,  to  know  his  embassy ; 
Which  I  could  with  a  ready  guess  declare. 
Before  the  Frenchman  speak  a  word  of  it. 

Ely.  I  '11  wait  upon  you,  and  I  long  to  hear  it. 

[Exeunt. 

86.  "passages";  that  is,  the  particulars,  and  clear  unconcealed 
circumstances. — "Severals,"  plural,  was  of  old  used  much  as  we  use 
details— n.  N.  H. 


11 


Act  I.  Sc.  ii.  THE  LIFE  OF 

Scene  II 

The  same.     The  Presence  chamber. 

Enter  King  Henry,  Gloucester,  Bedford,  Exeter, 
Warwick,  Westmoreland,  and  Attendants. 

K.  Hen.  Where  is  my  gracious  Lord  of  Canter- 
bury? 

Exe.  Not  here  in  presence. 

K.  Hen.  Send  for  him,  good  uncle. 

West.  Shall  we  call  in  the  ambassador,  my  liege? 

K.  Hen.  Not  yet,   my  cousin:  we  would  be  re- 
solved. 
Before  we  hear  him,  of  some  things  of  weight 
That   task   our   thoughts,    concerning   us    and 
France. 

Enter  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  and  the 
Bishop  of  Ely. 

Cant.  God    and    his    angels    guard    your    sacred 
throne, 

Sc.  2.  The  princes  Humphrey  and  John  were  made  dukes  of 
Gloucester  and  Bedford  at  the  parliament  mentioned  in  scene  i.  11. 
7-19.  At  the  same  time,  according  to  Holinshed,  Thomas  Beaufort, 
marquess  of  Dorset,  was  made  duke  of  Exeter.  The  Beaufort 
family  sprung  from  John  of  Gaunt  by  Katherine  Swynford,  to 
whom  he  was  married  after  she  had  borne  him  several  children. — 
The  earldom  of  Warwick  was  at  that  time  in  the  family  of  Beau- 
champ,  and  the  earl  of  Westmoreland  was  Ralph  Nevil. — H.  N.  H. 

3.  In  all  the  quartos  the  play  begins  at  this  speech.  It  is  there 
assigned  to  Exeter,  and  runs  thus:  "Shall  /  call  in  the  ambassador, 
my  Uege?"— H.  N.  H. 

4.  "cousin" ;  Westmoreland  was  a  cousin  only  by  marriage.  He 
had  married,  as  his  second  wife,  a  daughter  of  John  of  Gaunt, 
half  sister  of  Henry  IV,  and  aunt  of  the  king. — C.  H.  H. 

12 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  i.  Sc.  ii. 

And  make  you  long  become  it  I 
K.  Hen.  Sure,  we  thank  you. 

My  learned  lord,  we  pray  you  to  proceed 
And  justly  and  religiously  unfold  10 

Why  the  law  Salique  that  they  have  in  France 
Or  should,  or  should  not,  bar  us  in  our  claim: 
And  God  forbid,  my  dear  and  faithful  lord, 
That  you  should  fashion,  wrest,  or  bow  your 

reading, 
Or  nicely  charge  your  understanding  soul 
With  opening  titles  miscreate,  whose  right 
Suits  not  in  native  colors  with  the  truth; 
For  God  doth  know  how  many  now  in  health 
Shall  drop  their  blood  in  approbation 
Of  what  your  reverence  shall  incite  us  to.         20 

8-32.  We  subjoin  this  speech  as  it  stands  in  the  quartos,  that  the 
reader  may  have  some  means  of  judging  for  himself  touching 
some  points  handled  in  our  Introduction: 

"Sure  we  thank  you:  and,  good  my  lord,  proceed. 
Why  the  law  Salique,  which  they  have  in  France, 
Or  should  or  should  not  stop  in  us  our  claim: 
And  God  forbid,  my  wise  and  learned  lord. 
That  you  should  fashion,  frame,  or  wrest  the  same. 
For  God  doth  know  how  many  now  in  health 
Shall  drop  their  blood  in  approbation 
Of  what  your  reverence  shall  incite  us  to. 
Therefore  take  heed  how  you  impawn  our  person. 
How  you  awake  the  sleeping  sword  of  war: 
We  charge  you  in  the  name  of  God  take  heed. 
After  this  conjuration,  speak,  my  lord; 
And  we  will  judge,  note,  and  believe  in  heart. 
That  what  you  speak  is  wash'd  as  pure 
As  sin  in  basptism." — H.  N.  H. 

14.  "how";  warp.— C.  H.  H. 

15,  16.  "Or  nicely  .  .  .  miscreate";  or  burden  your  knowing  or 
conscious  soul  with  displaying  false  titles  in  a  specious  manner,  or 
opening  pretensions  which,  if  shown  in  their  native  colors,  would 
be  false— H.  N.  H. 

IS 


Act  I.  Sc.  ii.  THE  LIFE  OF 

Therefore  take  heed  how  you  impawn  our  per- 
son, 
How  you  awake  our  sleeping  sword  of  war : 
We  charge  you,  in  the  name  of  God,  take  heed ; 
For  never  two  such  kingdoms  did  contend 
Without  much  fall  of  blood;  whose  guiltless 

drops 
Are  every  one  a  woe,  a  sore  complaint 
'Gainst  him  whose  wrongs  give  edge  unto  the 

swords 
That  make  such  waste  in  brief  mortality. 
Under  this  conjuration  speak,  my  lord; 
For  we  wdll  hear,  note  and  believe  in  heart     30 
That  what  you   speak  is  in  your  conscience 

wash'd 
As  pure  as  sin  with  baptism. 
Cant.  Then  hear  me,  gracious  sovereign,  and  you 
peers. 
That  owe  yourselves,  your  lives  and  services 
To  this  imperial  throne.     There  is  no  bar 
To  make  against  your  highness'  claim  to  France 
But  this,  which  they  produce  from  Pharamond, 
'In  terram  Salicam  mulieres  ne  succedant:' 
*No  woman  shall  succeed  in  Salique  land:* 
Which  Salique  land  the  French  unjustly  gloze 
To  be  the  realm  of  France,  and  Pharamond  41 
The  founder  of  this  law  and  female  bar. 
Yet  their  own  authors  faithfully  affirm 
That  the  land  SaUque  is  in  Germany, 

32.  "as  pure  as  sin";   (concisely  expressed  for)   "as  pure  as  the 
heart  from  sin."— C.  H.  H. 

33.  The  whole  of  the  archbishop's  exposition  is  taken  from  Holin- 
sbed,  in  parts  almost  word  for  word. — C.  H.  H. 

14 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  i.  Sc.  ii. 

Between  the  floods  of  Sala  and  of  Elbe ; 
Where  Charles  the  Great,  having  subdued  the 

Saxons, 
There  left  behind  and  settled  certain  French ; 
Who,  holding  in  disdain  the  German  women 
For  some  dishonest  manners  of  their  life, 
Establish'd  then  this  law;  to  wit,  no  female  50 
Should  be  inheritrix  in  Salique  land: 
Which  Salique,  as  I  said,  'twixt  Elbe  and  Sala, 
Is  at  this  day  in  Germany  call'd  Meisen. 
Then  doth  it  well  appear  the  Salique  law 
Was  not  devised  for  the  realm  of  France; 
Nor  did  the  French  possess  the  Salique  land 
Until  four  hundred  one  and  twenty  years 
After  defunction  of  King  Pharamond, 
Idly  supposed  the  founder  of  this  law; 
Who  died  within  the  year  of  our  redemption  60 
Four    hundred    twenty-six;    and    Charles    the 

Great 
Subdued  the  Saxons,  and  did  seat  the  French 
Beyond  the  river  Sala,  in  the  year 
Eight  hundred  five.     Besides,  their  writers  say. 
King  Pepin,  which  deposed  Childeric, 
Did,  as  heir  general,  being  descended 
Of  Blithild,  which  was  daughter  to  King  Cloth- 
air, 

45,  53.  "Elbe,"  restored  by  Capell;  Ff.,  "Blue";  (HoUnshed, 
"Elbe";  Hall,  "Elve").—I.  G. 

57,  61,  64.  The  numbers  and  the  reckoning  are  from  Holinshed, 
As  Rolfe  pointed  out,  he  seems  to  have  deducted  405  from  826, 
instead  of  426  from  805.— C.  H.  H. 

61-64.  Theobald  (Warburton);  cp.  Montaigne's  Essays,  III.  9, 
(^vide  Florio'«  translation). — I.  G. 

15 


Act  I.  Sc.  ii.  THE  LIFE  OF 

IMake  claim  and  title  to  the  crown  of  France. 
Hugh  Capet  also,  who  usurp'd  the  crown 
Of  Charles  the  duke  of  Lorraine,  sole  heir  male 
Of  the  true  line  and  stock  of  Charles  the  Great, 
To  find  his  title  with  some  shows  of  truth,     72 
Though,   in  pure  truth,   it  was   corrupt   and 

naught, 
Convey'd  himself  as  heir  to  the  Lady  Lingare, 
Daughter  to  Charlemain,  who  was  the  son 
To  Lewis  the  emperor,  and  Lewis  the  son 
Of  Charles  the  Great.     Also  King  Lewis  the 

tenth, 
Who  was  sole  heir  to  the  usurper  Capet, 

72.  "to  find";  so  in  the  folio;  in  the  quartos,  fine;  which  latter  is 
generally  retained  in  modern  editions  as  meaning  to  trim  up,  adorn, 
or  make  fine,  with  fair  appearances.  To  "find  his  title"  is  to  ground 
or  make  out  his  title;  as  in  our  law  phrase,  to  find  a  bill  against  a 
man,  for  to  make  out  or  ground  an  indictment. — H.  N.   H. 

74.  "convey'd,"  etc.;  that  is,  passed  himself  off  as  heir  to  the  lady 
Lingare.  Bishop  Cooper  has  the  same  expression:  "To  convey  him- 
self to  be  of  some  noble  family." — The  matter  is  thus  stated  by 
Holinshed:  "Hugh  Capet  also,  who  usurped  the  crowne  upon 
Charles  duke  of  Loraine,  the  sole  heire  male  of  the  line  and  stocke 
of  Charles  the  great,  to  make  his  title  seeme  true,  and  appeare 
good,  though  in  deed  it  was  starke  naught,  conveied  himselfe  as 
heire  to  the  ladle  Lingard,  daughter  to  king  Charlemaine." — H,  N.  H. 

75.  "Charlemain";  i.  e.  Carloman  (Carlman).  Historically  it  was 
Charles  the  Bold.— C.  H.  H. 

76.  "Lewis";  monosyllabic  throughout. — C.  H.  H. 

77.  "Lewis  the  tenth";  the  reading  of  Ff.,  following  Holinshed; 
Pope,  from  HaU,  reads  "ninth." — I.  G. 

This  should  be  Lewis  the  Ninth.  The  Poet  took  the  mistake 
from  Holinshed,  who  states  the  matter  thus:  "King  Lewes  also 
the  tenth,  otherwise  called  saint  Lewes,  being  verie  heire  to  the 
said  usurper  Hugh  Capet,  could  never  be  satisfied  in  his  conscience 
how  he  might  justlie  keepe  the  crowne,  till  he  was  fullie  instructed 
that  queene  Isabell  his  grandmother  was  lineallie  descended  of 
the  ladie  Ermengard,  daughter  and  heire  to  the  above  named  Charles 
duke  of  Loraine."— H.  N.  H. 

16 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  l.  Sc.  ii. 

Could  not  keep  quiet  in  his  conscience, 
Wearing  the  crown  of  France,  till  satisfied  80 
That  fair  Queen  Isabel,  his  grandmother, 
Was  lineal  of  the  Lady  Ermengare, 
Daughter  to  Charles  the  foresaid  duke  of  Lor- 
raine : 
By  the  which  marriage  the  line  of  Charles  the 

Great 
W^as  re-united  to  the  crown  of  France. 
So  that,  as  clear  as  is  the  summer's  sun. 
King  Pepin's  title  and  Hugh  Capet's  claim. 
King  Lewis  his  satisfaction,  all  appear 
To  hold  in  right  and  title  of  the  female : 
So  do  the  kings  of  France  unto  this  day ;        90 
Howbeit  they  would  hold  up  this  Salique  law 
To  bar  your  highness  claiming  from  the  female, 
And  rather  choose  to  hide  them  in  a  net 
Than  amply  to  imbar  their  crooked  titles 
Usurp'd  from  you  and  your  progenitors. 

K.  Hen.  May  I  with  right  and  conscience  make 
this  claim? 

Cant.  The  sin  upon  my  head,  di-ead  sovereign! 

94.  "amply  to  imbar";  so  Ff.  (Ff.  1,  2,  " imbar r e" ) ;  Qq.  1,  -, 
"imbace"  Q.  3,  "imbrace" ;  Rowe,  "make  bare";  Theobald  (Warbur- 
ton),  "imbare";  Pope,  "openly  imbrace"  etc.  Schmidt  explains  the 
lines: — "They  strive  to  exclude  you,  instead  of  excluding  amply,  t.  «., 
without  restriction  or  subterfuge,  their  own  false  titles."  Perhaps 
Mr.  W.  A.  Wright's  explanation  is  the  truer,  taking  "imbar"  in 
the  sense  of  "to  bar  in,"  "secure": — "The  Kings  of  France,  says 
the  Archbishop,  whose  own  right  is  derived  only  through  the 
female  line,  prefer  to  shelter  themselves  under  the  flimsy  protec- 
tion of  an  appeal  to  the  Salic  law,  which  would  exclude  Henry's 
claim,  instead  of  fully  securing  and  defending  their  own  titles  by 
maintaining  that  though,  like  Henry's,  derived  through  the  female 
line,  their  claim  was  stronger  than  his." — I.  G. 

XVII— 2  17 


^t  I.  Sc.  ii.  THE  LIFE  OF 

For  in  the  book  of  Numbers  is  it  writ, 
When  the  man  dies,  let  the  inheritance 
Descend  unto  the  daughter.     Gracious  lord,  100 
Stand  for  your  own;  unwind  your  bloody  flag; 
Look  back  into  your  mighty  ancestors: 
Go,  my  dread  lord,  to  your  great-grandsire's 

tomb, 
From   whom   you    claim;    invoke   his   warlike 

spirit. 
And   your   great-uncle's,   Edward   the   Black 

Prince, 
Who  on  the  French  ground  play'd  a  tragedy, 
Making  defeat  on  the  full  power  of  France, 
Whiles  his  most  mighty  father  on  a  hill 
Stood  smiling  to  behold  his  lion's  whelp 
Forage  in  blood  of  French  nobility,  HO 

O  noble  English,  that  could  entertain 
With  half  their  forces  the  full  pride  of  France 
And  let  another  half  stand  laughing  by. 
All  out  of  work  and  cold  for  action! 
Ely.  Awake  remembrance  of  these  valiant  dead. 
And  with  your  puissant  arm  renew  their  feats: 
You  are  their  heir ;  you  sit  upon  their  throne ; 
The  blood  and  courage  that  renowned  them 

98.  "in  the  Book  of  Numbers" ;  cp.  Numbers  xxvii.  1-11. 

99.  "man";  the  reading  of  Ff. ;  Qq.,  "sonne." — I.  G. 

110.  "Forage  in";  Ff.,  "Forrage  in";  Q.  1,  "Foraging";  Q.  3, 
"Porraging  the." — I.  G, 

114.  "cold  for  action";  that  is,  "cold  for  want  of  action,"  as  it  is 
commonly  explained;  which  Knight  thinks  is  taking  the  words  too 
literally,  just  as  if,  where  the  literal  construction  will  stand,  that 
which  is  farthest  from  this  were  not  commonly  the  worst.  How- 
ever, he  very  aptly  suggests,  that  the  meaning  may  be,  indisposed 
to  action,  as  knowing  their  help  was  not  wanted;  that  there  were 
enough  to  do  the  work  without  them. — H.  N.  H. 

18 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  i.  Sc.  ii. 

Runs  in  your  veins;  and  my  thrice-puissant 

liege 
Is  in  the  very  May-morn  of  his  youth,  120 

Ripe  for  exploits  and  mighty  enterprises. 
Ecce.  Your  brother  kings   and  monarchs  of  the 
earth 
Do  all  expect  that  you  should  rouse  yourself, 
As  did  the  former  lions  of  your  blood. 
West.  They  know  your  grace  hath  cause  and  means 
and  might; 
So  hath  your  highness ;  never  king  of  England 
Had  nobles  richer  and  more  loyal  subjects, 
Whose  hearts  have  left  their  bodies  here  in  Eng- 
land 
And  lie  pavilion'd  in  the  fields  of  France. 
Cant.  O,  let  their  bodies  follow,  my  dear  liege,  130 

125.  "Your  grace  hath  cause  and  means."  Hanmer  reads  "Your 
race  hath  had  cause,  means."  Various  readings  have  been  suggested, 
but  there  seems  to  be  no  difficulty  whatever  in  understanding  the 
text  as  it  stands. — I.  G. 

125,  126.  Coleridge  thinks  that  perhaps  these  lines  should  be  recited 
dramatically  thus: 

"They  know  your  grace  hath  cause,  and  means,  and  might: 
So  hath  your  highness, — never  king  of  England 
Had  nobles  richer,  and  more  loyal  subjects"; 

which  infers  an  ellipsis  very  much  in  Shakespeare's  manner.  Of 
course  the  sense  expressed  in  full  would  give  a  reading  something 
thus:  "So  hath  your  highness  rich  nobles  and  loyal  subjects;  no 
king  of  England  ever  had  any  that  were  more  so." — H.  N.  H. 

130-135.  So  in  Holinshed's  paraphrase  of  the  archbishop's  speech: 
"At  length,  having  said  sufficientlie  for  the  proofe  of  the  king's 
just  and  lawful  title  to  the  crowne  of  France,  he  exhorted  him 
to  advance  foorth  his  banner  to  fight  for  his  right,  to  spare  neitlier 
bloud,  sword,  nor  fire,  sith  his  warre  was  just,  his  cause  good, 
and  his  claime  true:  and  he  declared  that  in  their  spirituall  con- 
vocation they  had  granted  to  his  highnesse  such  a  sumrae  of  monie, 
as  never  by  no  spirituall  persons  was  to  any  prince  before  those 
daies  given  or  advanced." — H.  N.  H. 

19 


Act  I.  Sc.  ii.  THE  LIFE  OF 

With  blood  and  sword  and  fire  to  win  your 

right; 
In  aid  whereof  we  of  the  spiritualty 
Will  raise  your  highness  such  a  mighty  sum 
As  never  did  the  clergy  at  one  time 
Bring  in  to  any  of  your  ancestors. 

K,  Hen.  We  must  not  only  arm  to  invade  the 
French, 
But  lay  down  our  proportions  to  defend 
Against  the  Scot,  who  will  make  road  upon  us 
With  all  advantages. 

Cant.  They  of  those  marches,  gracious  sovereign, 
Shall  be  a  wall  sufficient  to  defend  141 

Our  inland  from  the  pilfering  borderers. 

K.  Hen.  We  do  not  mean  the  coursing  snatchers 
only, 
But  fear  the  main  intendment  of  the  Scot, 
Who  hath  been  still  a  giddy  neighbor  to  us; 
For  you  shall  read  that  my  great-grandfather 
Never  went  with  his  forces  into  France, 
But  that  the  Scot  on  his  unfurnish'd  kingdom 
Came  pouring,  like  the  tide  into  a  breach. 
With  ample  and  brim  fulness  of  his  force,  150 

131.  "blood";  so  Ff.  3,  4;  F.  1,  "Bloods";  F.  2,  "Blonds."— I.  G. 
140-142.  The    marches    are    the    borders.    The    quartos    have    this 
speech  thus: 

"The  marches,  gracious  sovereign,  shall  be  sufBcient 
To  guard  your  England  from  the  pilfering  borderers"; 
where,  as  Mr.  Collier  suggests,  the  putting  of  England  for  inland, 
which  latter  the  sense  plainly  requires,  would  seem  to  argue  rather  » 
a    mishearing    of   the    lines    as    spoken,   than    a   misreading    of    the 
manuscript. — H.  N.  H. 

150.  "with  ample  and  brim  fulness";  probably  "brim"  is  here 
adjectival;  Pope  reads  "brim fulness" '  but  the  accent  favors  the 
present  reading. — I.  G. 

20 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  I.  Sc.  ii. 

Galling  the  gleaned  land  with  hot  assays, 
Girding  with  grievous  siege  castles  and  towns; 
That  England,  being  empty  of  defense, 
Hath  shook  and  trembled  at  the  ill  neighbor- 
hood. 
Cant.  She  hath  been  then  more  fear'd  than  harm'd, 
my  liege; 
For  hear  her  but  exampled  by  herself; 
When  all  her  chivalry  hath  been  in  France, 
And  she  a  mourning  widow  of  her  nobles. 
She  hath  herself  not  only  well  defended, 
But  taken  and  impounded  as  a  stray  160 

The   King   of   Scots;   whom  she   did   send  to 

France, 
To   fill    King   Edward's    fame   with   prisoner 

kings. 
And  make  her  chronicle  as  rich  with  praise. 
As  is  the  ooze  and  bottom  of  the  sea 
With  sunken  wreck  and  sumless  treasuries. 
West.  But  there  's  a  saying  very  old  and  true, 
*If  that  you  will  France  win. 
Then  with  Scotland  first  begin:' 

154.  "the  ill-neighborhood" ;  Boswell,  from  Qq.,  reads  "the  bruit 
thereof."— I.  G. 

161.  "the  King  of  Scots";  King  David,  taken  at  Neville's  Cross, 
1346.— C.  H.  H. 

162.  "prisoner  kings";  King  John  of  France  was  likewise  taken. — 
C.  H.  H. 

163.  "her  chronicle";  Capell,  Johnson  conj.;  Ff.  read,  "their  G"; 
Qq.,  "your  Chronicles" ;  Rowe,  "his  Chronicle." — I.  G. 

As  Knight  remarks,  in  old  manuscripts  your  and  their  were  writ- 
ten alike.— H.  N.  H. 

166.  "Westmoreland" ;  in  Ff.  the  following  speech  is  given  to 
Exeter,  in  Qq.  to  "a  lord."  In  Holinshed  the  corresponding  speech 
is  spoken  by  Westmoreland;  hence  Capell  restored  his  name  here. — 
C.  H.  H. 

21 


Act  I.  Sc.  ii.  THE  LIFE  OF 

For  once  the  eagle  England  being  in  prey, 
To  her  unguarded  nest  the  weasel  Scot  170 

Comes  sneaking  and  so  sucks  her  princely  eggs, 
Playing  the  mouse  in  absence  of  the  cat. 
To  tear  and  havoc  more  than  she  can  eat. 
Ecce.  It  follows  then  the  cat  must  stay  at  home : 
Yet  that  is  but  a  crush'd  necessity, 
Since  we  have  locks  to  safeguard  necessaries, 
And  pretty  traps  to  catch  the  petty  thieves, 
While  that  the  armed  hand  doth  fight  abroad, 
The  advised  head  defends  itself  at  home ; 
For   government,  though   high   and  low  and 
lower,  180 

Put  into  parts,  doth  keep  in  one  consent, 
Congreeing  in  a  full  and  natural  close, 
Like  music. 

173.  "tear";  so  Rowe,  ed.  2;  Ff.,  "tame";  Qq.  "spoil";  Theobald, 
"taint."— I.  G. 

The  quartos  read, — "To  spoil  and  havoc";  the  folio, — "To  tame 
and  havoc";  neither  of  which  agrees  very  well  with  the  sense.  We 
concur,  therefore,  with  Collier  and  Verplanck,  that  tame  was  a 
misprint  for  teare,  as  the  word  was  then  spelled. — The  matter  is 
thus  related  by  Holinshed:  "When  the  archbishop  had  ended  his 
prepared  tale,  Rafe  Nevill  earle  of  Westmerland,  and  as  then 
lord  Warden  of  the  marches  against  Scotland,  thought  good  to 
moove  the  king  to  begin  first  with  Scotland,  concluding  the  summe 
of  his  tale  with  this  old  saieng:  Who  so  will  France  win,  must  with 
Scotland  first  begin."— H.  N.  H. 

175.  "crush'd  necessity";  so  in  the  folio:  in  the  quartos  "curs'd 
necessity";  which  latter  is  commonly  preferred  in  modern  editions, 
though  divers  third  readings  have  been  proposed,  to  get  rid  of  the 
alleged  difficulty  of  the  passage.  We  agree  with  Singer,  Knight, 
and  Verplanck,  that  there  is  little  real  difficulty  in  crush'd,  Exeter's 
meaning  apparently  is, — "The  necessity  which  you  urge  is  over- 
come, done  away,  crushed,  by  the  argument  that  we  have  locks  and 
pretty  traps  for  security  against  the  weasel;  so  that  it  does  not  fol- 
low that  the  cat  must  stay  at  home." — H.  N.  H. 

180-183.  Theobald    first    compared    these    lines    with    Cicero,    De 

22 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  i.  Sc.  ii. 

Cant.  Therefore  doth  heaven  divid 

The  state  of  man  in  divers  functions, 
Setting  endeavor  in  continual  motion; 
To  which  is  fixed,  as  an  aim  or  butt, 
Obedience:  for  so  work  the  honey-bees, 
Creatures  that  by  a  rule  in  nature  teach 
The  act  of  order  to  a  peopled  kingdom. 
They  have  a  king  and  officers  of  sorts;  190 

Where  some,  like  magistrates,  correct  at  home. 
Others,  like  merchants,  venture  trade  abroad. 
Others,  like  soldiers,  armed  in  their  stings. 
Make  boot  upon  the  summer's  velvet  buds. 
Which  pillage  they  with  merry  march  bring 

home 
To  the  tent-royal  of  their  emperor; 
Who,  busied  in  his  majesty,  surveys 
The  singing  masons  building  roofs  of  gold, 
The  civil  citizens  kneading  up  the  honey, 

Bepublica,  ii.  42,  and  thought  that  Shakespeare  had  perhaps  bor- 
rowed from  Cicero. — I.  G. 

The  profound  and  beautiful  idea  of  this  passage  occurs  in  a 
fragment  quoted  by  St.  Augustine  from  a  lost  book  of  Cicero's. 
But  Shakespeare,  if  he  did  not  discover  it  with  his  own  unassisted 
eye,  was  more  likely  to  derive  it  from  Plato,  who  was  much  studied 
in  England  in  his  time.  In  the  fourth  book  of  his  Republic  he 
speaks  something  thus:  "It  is  not  wisdom  and  strength  alone  that 
make  a  state  wise  and  strong;  but  order,  like  the  harmony  called  the 
diapason,  runs  through  the  whole  state,  making  the  weakest,  and  the 
strongest,  and  the  middling  people  move  in  one  concent."  And 
again:  "The  harmonic  power  of  political  justice  is  the  same  as 
that  musical  concent  which  connects  the  three  chords,  the  octave, 
the  bass,  and  the  fifth."— H.  N.  H. 

187-203.  Lyly,  in  his  Euphties  (Arber's  Reprint,  pp.  262-4),  has 
a  similar  description  of  the  common-wealth  of  the  bees:  its  ultimate 
source  is  probably  Pliny's  Natural  History,  Book  xi.  (n.  b.,  Hol- 
land's translation  did  not  appear  till  1601). — I.  G. 

197.  "majesty";  so  Rowe  from  Qq.;  Ff.,  "Maiesties."—!.  G. 


Act  I.  Sc.  ii.  THE  LIFE  OF 

The  poor  mechanic  porters  crowding  in         200 
Their  heavy  burdens  at  his  narrow  gate, 
The  sad-eyed  justice,  with  his  surly  hum, 
Dehvering  o'er  to  executors  pale 
The  lazy  yawning  drone.     I  this  infer. 
That  many  things,  having  full  reference 
To  one  consent,  may  work  contrariously : 
As  many  arrows,  loosed  several  ways, 
Come  to  one  mark;  as  many  ways  meet  in  one 

town; 
As  many  fresh  streams  meet  in  one  salt  sea; 
As  many  lines  close  in  the  dial's  center;        210 
So  may  a  thousand  actions,  once  afoot, 
End  in  one  purpose,  and  be  all  well  borne 
Without    defeat.     Therefore    to    France,    my 

Hege. 
Divide  your  happy  England  into  four; 
Whereof  take  you  one  quarter  into  France, 
And  you  withal  shall  make  all  Gallia  shake. 
If  we,  with  thrice  such  powers  left  at  home, 
Cannot  defend  our  own  doors  from  the  dog, 
Let  us  be  worried  and  our  nation  lose 

204.  "lazy  yawning  drone";  we  have  once  before  caught  Shake- 
speare watching  at  the  bee-hive,  and  using  the  work  carried  on  there 
as  one  of  his  classics.  It  need  scarce  be  said  that  this  description 
could  only  have  been  given  from  his  own  observation.  And  what 
an  eye  he  must  have  had  for  whatsoever  is  most  poetical  in  nature! 
— H.  N.  H. 

208.  "Come,"  so  Ff.;  Capell,  from  Qq.,  "fly";  "as  many  ways 
meet  in  one  town";  Capell,  from  Qq.,  reads  "As  many  seuerall  wayes 
meete  in  one  towne";  Dyce,  Lettsom  conj.  "As  many  several  streets" 
etc.— I.  G. 

209.  "meet  in  one  salt  sea";  Capell,  from  Qq.,  reads  "run  in  one 
self  sea";  Vaughan  conj.  "run  in  one  salt  sea." — I.  G. 

212.  "End";  Pope's  emendation  from  Qq.;  Ff.,  "And"— I.  G. 

24> 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  I.  Sc.  ii. 

The  name  of  hardiness  and  poHcy.  220 

K.  Hen,  Call  in  the  messengers   sent  from  the 
Dauphin.  [Exeunt  some  Attendants. 

Now  are  we  well  resolved ;  and,  by  God's  help, 
And  yours,  the  noble  sinews  of  our  power, 
France  being  ours,  we  '11  bend  it  to  our  awe, 
Or  break  it  all  to  pieces :  or  there  we  '11  sit, 
Ruling  in  large  and  ample  empery 
O'er  France  and  all  her  almost  kingly  duke- 
doms. 
Or  lay  these  bones  in  an  unworthy  urn, 
Tombless,  with  no  remembrance  over  them: 
Either  our  history  shall  with  full  mouth        230 
Speak  freely  of  our  acts,  or  else  our  grave, 
Like  Turkish  mute,   shall   have   a  tongueless 

mouth. 
Not  worship'd  with  a  waxen  epitaph. 

Enter  Ambassadors  of  France. 

Now  are  we  well  prepared  to  know  the  pleasure 
Of  our  fair  cousin  Dauphin;  for  we  hear 
Your  greeting  is  from  him,  not  from  the  king. 

231,  232.  "our  grave,  like  Turkish  mute,"  etc.;  our  grave  shall  be 
undistinguished,  "with  no  remembrance  over  it,"  not  honored  even 
by  the  most  ephemeral  epitaph. — C.  H.  H. 

233.  "waxen  epitaph." ;  the  quartos  have  "paper  epitaph."  We 
subjoin  the  whole  speech  as  there  given: 

"Call  in  the  messenger  sent  from  the  Dauphin; 
And  by  your  aid,  the  noble  sinews  of  our  land, 
France  being  ours,  we'll  bring  it  to  our  awe, 
Or  break  it  all  in  pieces. 

Either  our  chronicles  shall  with  full  mouth  speak 
Freely  of  our  acts,  or  else  like  tongueless  mutes, — 
Not  worshipp'd  with  a  paper  epitaph." — H.  N.  H. 


25 


Act  I.  Sc.  ii.  THE  LIFE  OF 

First  Amh.  JSIay  't  please  your  majesty  to  give  us 
leave 
Freely  to  render  what  we  have  in  charge ; 
Or  shall  we  sparinglj^  show  you  far  off 
The  Dauphin's  meaning  and  our  embassy?  240 
K.  Hen.  We  are  no  tyrant,  but  a  Christian  king ; 
Unto  whose  grace  our  passion  is  as  subject 
As  are  our  wretches  fetter'd  in  our  prisons: 
Therefore  with  frank  and  with  uncurbed  plain- 
ness 
Tell  us  the  Dauphin's  mind. 
First  Amh,  Thus,  then,  in  few. 

Your  highness,  lately  sending  into  France, 
Did  claim  some  certain  dukedoms,  in  the  right 
Of  your  great  predecessor,  King  Edward  the 

third. 
In  answer  of  which  claim,  the  prince  our  master 
Says  that  you  savor  too  much  of  your  youth,  250 
And  bids  you  be  advised  there 's  nought  in 

France 
That  can  be  with  a  nimble  galliard  won; 
You  cannot  revel  into  dukedoms  there. 
He  therefore  sends  you,  meeter  for  your  spirit, 

2o-2.  The  "gaUiard"  was  a  nimble,  sprightly  dance.     It  is  thus  de- 
scribed by  Sir  John  Davies  in  his  superb  poem  On  Dancing: 

"But  for  more  diverse  and  more  pleasing  show, 
A  swift  and  wandering  dance  she  did  invent. 
With  passages  uncertain  to  and  fro. 
Yet  with  a  certain  answer  and  consent 
To  the  quick  music  of  the  instrument. 
A  gallant  dance,  that  lively  doth  bewray 
A  spirit  and  a  virtue  masculine, 
Impatient  that  her  house  on  earth  should  stay, 
Since  she  herself  is  fiery  and  divine." — H.  N.  H. 

26 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  I.  Sc.  ii. 

This  tun  of  treasure ;  and,  in  lieu  of  this, 
Desires  you  let  the  dukedoms  that  you  claim 
Hear  no   more   of   you.     This   the   Dauphin 
speaks. 
K.  Hen.  What  treasure,  uncle? 
Exe.  Tennis-balls,  my  liege. 

K.  Hen.  We  are  glad  the  Dauphin  is  so  pleasant 
with  us; 
His  present  and  your  pains  we  thank  you  for: 
When  we  have  match'd  our  rackets  to  these 
balls,  261 

We  will,  in  France,  by  God's  grace,  play  a  set 
Shall  strike  his  father's  crown  into  the  hazard. 
Tell  him  he  hath  made  a  match  with  such  a 

wrangler 
That  all  the  courts  of  France  will  be  disturb'd 
With  chaces.     And  we  understand  him  well, 

255.  "This  tun  of  treasure";  probably  suggested  by  the  correspond- 
ing words  in  The  Famous  Victories. — I.  G. 
"tun";  probably  a  keg. — C.  H.  H. 

263.  "shall  strike  his  father's  crown  into  the  hazard";  hazard 
used  technically,  "the  hazard  in  a  tennis-court";  glosses,  "grille  de 
tripot"  in  old  French  dictionaries. — I.  G. 

The  "lower  hazard"  was  the  technical  name,  in  tennis,  for  a  cer- 
tain hole  in  the  wall  of  the  tennis-court,  near  the  ground.  "A  stroke 
into  the  lower  hazard  would  be  a  winning  stroke"  (J.  Marshall, 
Annals  of  Tennis).  Hence  the  expression  is  literally  equivalent  to 
"win  the  game."  But  there  is,  as  throughout  the  passage,  a  refer- 
ence to  the  ordinary  sense  of  the  word. — C.  H.  H. 

266.  "chaces";  Mr.  Collier  says, — "A  chase  at  tennis  is  the  dura- 
tion of  a  contest  between  the  players,  in  which  the  strife  on  each 
side  is  to  keep  up  the  ball."  This  funny  piece  of  French  diplomacy 
is  thus  related  by  Holinshed:  "Whilest  in  the  Lent  season  the  king 
laie  at  Killing^vo^th,  there  came  to  him  from  the  Dolphin  of  France 
certeine  ambassadors  that  brought  with  them  a  barrell  of  Paris 
balles,  which  from  their  master  they  presented  to  him  for  a  token 
that  was  taken  in  verie  ill  part,  as  sent  in  scorne,  to  signifie  that 
it  was  more  meet  for  the  king  to  passe  the  time  with  such  childish 

27 


Act  I.  Sc.  ii.  THE  LIFE  OF 

How  he  comes  o'er  us  with  our  wilder  days, 
Not  measuring  what  use  we  made  of  them. 
We  never  valued  this  poor  seat  of  England; 
And  therefore,  living  hence,  did  give  ourself 
To  barbarous  license;  as  'tis  ever  common    271 
That  men  are  merriest  when  they  are   from 

home. 
But  tell  the  Dauphin  I  will  keep  my  state. 
Be  like  a  king  and  show  my  sail  of  greatness 
When  I  do  rouse  me  in  my  throne  of  France : 
For  that  I  have  laid  by  my  majesty, 
And  plodded  like  a  man  for  working-days ; 
But  I  will  rise  there  with  so  full  a  glory 
That  I  will  dazzle  all  the  eyes  of  France, 
Yea,  strike  the  Dauphin  blind  to  look  on  us.  280 
And  tell  the  pleasant  prince  this  mock  of  his 
Hath  turn'd  his  balls  to  gun-stones ;  and  his  soul 
Shall  stand  sore  charged  for  the  wasteful  ven- 
geance 
That  shall  fly  with  them:  for  many  a  thousand 

widows 
Shall  this  his  mock  mock  out  of  their  dear  hus- 
bands; 
Mock  mothers  from  their  sons,  mock  castles 

down ; 
And  some  are  yet  ungotten  and  unborn 

exercise,  than  to  attempt  any  worthie  exploit.  Wherefore  the  king 
wrote  to  him  that  yer  ought  long  he  would  tosse  him  some  London 
halles  that  perchance  should  shake  the  walles  of  the  best  court  in 
France."  In  the  old  play,  The  Famous  Victories  of  Henry  V,  the 
"barrel  of  Paris  balls"  becomes  "a  gilded  tun  of  tennis  balls." — 
H.  N.  H. 

276.  "for  thai";  so  Ff.;  Qq.  "for  ihis/'—C.  H.  H. 

283.  "wasteful";  wasting,  destructive.— C.   H.   H. 

28 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  i.  Sc.  ii. 

That  shall  have  cause  to  curse  the  Dauphin's 

scorn. 
But  this  lies  all  within  the  will  of  God, 
To  whom  I  do  appeal;  and  in  whose  name      290 
Tell  you  the  Dauphin  I  am  coming  on, 
To  venge  me  as  I  may  and  to  put  forth 
My  rightful  hand  in  a  well-hallow'd  cause. 
So  get  you  hence  in  peace ;  and  tell  the  Dauphin 
His  jest  will  savor  but  of  shallow  wit. 
When  thousands  weep  more  than  did  laugh 

at  it. 
Convey   them   with   safe   conduct.     Fare   you 

well..  [Exeunt  Ambassadors. 

Ecce.  This  was  a  merry  message. 
K.  Hen.  We  hope  to  make  the  sender  blush  at  it. 
Therefore,  my  lords,  omit  no  happy  hour      500 
That  may  give  furtherance  to  our  expedition; 
For  we  have  now  no  thought  in  us  but  France, 
Save  those  to  God,  that  run  before  our  business. 
Therefore  let  our  proportions  for  these  wars 
Be  soon  collected,  and  all  things  thought  upon 
That  may  with  reasonable  swiftness  add 
More  feathers  to  our  wings;  for,  God  before, 
We  '11  chide  this  Dauphin  at  his  father's  door. 
Therefore  let  every  man  now  task  his  thought. 
That  this  fair  action  may  on  foot  be  brought. 

[Exeunt.     Flourish.  310 

307.  "God  before";  with  God's  guidance.— C.  H.  H. 


29 


Prologue  THE  LIFE  OF 


ACT  SECOND 
PROLOGUE 

Enter  Chorus. 

Chor.  Now  all  the  youth  of  England  are  on  fire, 
And  silken  dalliance  in  the  wardrobe  lies: 
Now  thrive  the  armorers,  and  honor's  thought 
Reigns  solely  in  the  breast  of  every  man: 
They  sell  the  pasture  now  to  buy  the  horse, 
Following  the  mirror  of  all  Christian  kings, 
With  winged  heels,  as  English  Mercuries. 
For  now  sits  Expectation  in  the  air. 
And  hides  a  sword  from  hilts  unto  the  point 
With  crowns  imperial,  crowns  and  coronets,  10 
Promised  to  Harry  and  his  followers. 
The  French,  advised  by  good  intelligence 
Of  this  most  dreadful  preparation. 
Shake  in  their  fear  and  with  pale  policy 
Seek  to  divert  the  English  purposes. 
O  England!  model  to  thy  inward  greatness, 
Like  little  body  with  a  mighty  heart. 
What  mightst  thou  do,  that  honor  would  thee 

do. 
Were  all  thy  children  kind  and  natural  I 

Pope  transferred   the   Prologue  to  the  end   of  the  first  scene. — 
I.  G. 
19.  "kind";  filial.— C.  H.  H. 

SO 


KING   HENRY   V  Prologue 

But  see  thy  fault  1     France  hath  in  thee  found 
out  20 

A  nest  of  hollow  bosoms,  which  he  fills 
With  treacherous  crowns;  and  three  corrupted 

men, 
One,  Richard  Earl  of  Cambridge,  and  the  sec- 
ond, 
Henry  Lord  Scroop  of  Masham,  and  the  third, 
Sir  Thomas  Grey,  knight,  of  Northumberland, 
Have,   for  the  gilt  of  France, — O   guilt  in- 
deed ! — 
Confirm'd  conspiracy  with  fearful  France; 
And  by  their  hands  this  grace  of  kings  must  die. 
If  hell  and  treason  hold  their  promises. 
Ere  he  take  ship  for  France,  and  in  South- 
ampton. 30 
Linger  your  patience  on ;  and  we  '11  digest 
The  abuse  of  distance;  force  a  play: 

23.  "Richard";  this  was  Richard  Plantagenet,  younger  son  to 
Edmund  of  LanglcT,  duke  of  York,  and  brother  to  Edward,  the 
duke  of  York  of  this  play.— H.  N.  H. 

24.  "Henry  Lord  Scroop";  son  of  Sir  Stephen  Scroop  in  Richard 
II,  and  step-brother  of  the  Earl  of  Cambridge. — C.  H.  H. 

26.  "gilt";  gold.— C.  H.  H. 

27.  "fearful";  timid.— C.  H.  H. 

32.  "The  abuse  of  distance;  force  a  play";  so  Ff.;  Pope,  "while 
we  force  a  play";  Warburton  conj.  "while  we  farce  a  play,"  etc.; 
"to  force  a  play"  is  interpreted  by  Steevens  to  mean  "to  produce 
a  play  by  compressing  many  circumstances  into  a  narrow  com- 
pass." Various  emendations  have  been  proposed,  but  in  spite  of 
the  imperfection  of  the  line  as  it  stands,  no  suggestions  seem  to 
improve  upon  it.  Perhaps,  after  all,  the  line  is  correct  as  it 
stands,  with  a  pause  for  a  syllable  at  the  caesura,  and  with  a 
vocalic  r  in  "force,"  making  the  word  dissyllabic;  cp.  "fierce,"  II.  iv. 
99.— I.  G. 

We  concur  with  Knight  in  keeping  here  exactly  to  the  original 
text;  not  that  we  can  pretend  to  understand  it,   but   because  we 

SI 


Act  II.  Sc.  i.  THE  LIFE  OF 

The  sum  is  paid;  the  traitors  are  agreed; 
The  king  is  set  from  London;  and  the  scene 
Is  now  transi)orted,  gentles,  to  Southampton; 
There  is  the  playhouse  now,  there  must  you  sit : 
And  thence  to  France  shall  we  convey  you  safe, 
And  bring  you  back,  charming  the  narrow  seas 
To  give  you  gentle  pass ;  for,  if  we  may. 
We  '11  not  offend  one  stomach  with  our  play.  40 
But,  till  the  king  come  forth,  and  not  till  then. 
Unto  Southampton  do  we  shift  our  scene. 

Scene  I 

London.     A  street. 

Enter  Corporal  Nym  and  Lieutenant  Bardolph. 

Bard.  Well  met,  Corporal  Nym. 

Nym.  Good  morrow.  Lieutenant  Bardolph. 

Bard.  What,  are  Ancient  Pistol  and  you  friends 

yet? 

see  not  how  it  is  to  be  bettered  by  any  lawful  correction.  The 
more  common  reading  changes  we'll  into  well,  and  inserts  while 
we  before  force,  thus:  "And  well  digest  the  abuse  of  distance, 
while  we  force  a  play."  Mr.  Collier  retains  well  instead  of  we'll, 
and  explains  the  passage  thus:  "The  Chorus  calls  upon  the 
audience  to  digest  well  the  abuse  of  the  scene,  arising  out  of  the 
distance  of  the  various  places,  and  to  force  a  play,  or  put  con- 
straint upon  themselves  in  this  respect,  for  the  sake  of  the  drama." 
Which  explanation  we  give,  not  as  appearing  at  all  satisfactory, 
but  merely  in  default  of  a  better.  We  could  heartily  wish  the 
two  lines  were  away,  and  are  well  persuaded  they  have  no  business 
there.— H.  N.  H. 

41.  "But  till  the  king  come  forth,"  etc.;  i.  e.  "until  the  King 
come  forth  we  shall  not  shift  our  scene  unto  Southampton."— I.  G. 

So  in  the  original;   but   the   sense  plainly   requires   the  first  till 

3Z 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  ii.  Sc.  i. 

Nym.  For  my  part,  I  care  not :  I  say  little ;  but 
when  time  shall  serve,  there  shall  be  smiles; 
but  that  shall  be  as  it  may.  I  dare  not  fight ; 
but  I  will  wink  and  hold  out  mine  iron :  it  is 
a  simple  one;  but  what  though?  it  will  toast 
cheese,  and  it  will  endure  cold  as  another  10 
man's  sword  will :  and  there  's  an  end. 

Bard.  I  will  bestow  a  breakfast  to  make  you 
friends ;  and  we  '11  be  all  three  sworn  broth- 
ers to  France:  let  it  be  so,  good  Corporal 
Nym. 

Nym.  Faith,  I  will  live  so  long  as  I  may,  that 's 
the  certain  of  it;  and  when  I  cannot  live  any 
longer,  I  will  do  as  I  may:  that  is  my  rest, 
that  is  the  rendezvous  of  it. 

Bard.  It  is  certain,  corporal,  that  he  is  married   20 
to  Nell  Quickly :  and,  certainly,  she  did  you 
wrong;  for  you  were  troth-plight  to  her. 

Nym.  I  cannot  tell:  things  must  be  as  they 
may:  men  may  sleep,  and  they  may  have 
their  throats  about  them  at  that  time;  and 
some  say  knives  have  edges.     It  must  be  as 

to  be  when.  As  the  next  scene  is  to  be  in  London,  the  Chorus 
warns  the  spectators  to  wait  for  the  shifting  of  the  scene  to  South- 
ampton, till  the  king  comes  forth.  Perhaps  it  should  be  remarked 
that  the  shifting  of  scenes  was  much  more  the  work  of  imagina- 
tion then  than  it  is  now,  as  the  senses  had  little  help  in  a  change 
of  places. — H.  N.  H. 

6.  "there  shall  be  smiles";  Hanmer  conj.,  Warburton,  "there  shall 
be — (smiles)";  Farmer,  Collier,  2  ed.,  "smites"  (i.  e.  blows). — I.  G. 

13,  "three  sworn  brothers";  in  the  times  of  adventure  it  was  usual 
for  two  or  more  chiefs  to  bind  themselves  to  share  in  each  other's 
fortunes,  and  divide  their  acquisitions  between  them.  They  were 
called  fratres  jurati. — H.  N.  H. 

XVII— 3  $3 


Act  11.  Sc.  i.  THE  LIFE  OF 

it  may :  though  patience  be  a  tired  mare,  yet 
she  will  plod.  There  must  be  conclusions. 
Well,  I  cannot  tell. 

Enter  Pistol  and  Hostess. 

Bard.  Here  comes  Ancient  Pistol  and  his  wife :   30 
good  corporal,  be  patient  here.     How  now, 
mine  host  Pistol! 

Pist.  Base  tike,  call'st  thou  me  host? 

Now,  by  this  hand,  I  swear,  I  scorn  the  term; 
Nor  shall  my  Nell  keep  lodgers. 

Host.  No,  by  my  troth,  not  long;  for  we  can- 
not lodge  and  board  a  dozen  or  fourteen  gen- 
tlewomen that  live  honestly  by  the  prick  of 
their  needles,  but  it  will  be  thought  we  keep 
a  bawdy  house  straight.  [Nym  and  Pistol  40 
draw.^  O  well  a  day.  Lady,  if  he  be  not 
drawn  now !  we  shall  see  willful  adultery  and 
murder  committed. 

Bard.  Good  lieutenant!   good  corporal!   offer 
nothing  here. 

Nym.  Pish! 

Pist.  Pish  for  thee,  Iceland  dog!  thou  prick- 
ear'd  cur  of  Iceland! 

27.  "mare";  restored  by  Theobald  from  Qq.;  Ff.  read  "name"; 
Hanmer,  "dame";  Collier  MS.,  "jade." — I.  G. 

28.  "conclusions" ;  attempts.  Nym  cautiously  avails  himself  of  the 
antiquity  of  the  word. — C.  H.  H. 

31.  "How  now,  mine  host  Pistol!"  Qq.,  "How  do  you  my  Hoste?" 
giving  the  words  to  Nym. — I.  G. 

41.  "O  well  a  day,  Lady,  if  he  he  not  drawn  now";  "drawn," 
Theobald's  emendation;  Ff.,  "hewne";  Malone  from  Q.  1,  "O  Lord! 
here's  corporal  Nym's  ." — I.  G. 

47.  "Iceland  dog!";  Steevens,  Johnson  conj.;  Ff.  read  "Island 
dog";  Qq.,  "Iseland"    There  are  several  allusions  to  "these  shaggy, 

34 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  II.  Sc.  i. 

Host.  Good   Corporal  Nym,   show  thy  valor, 

and  put  up  your  sword.  50 

Nym.  Will  you  shog  off?  I  would  have  you 

solus. 
Pist.  'Solus,'  egregious  dog?     O  viper  vile! 

The  'solus'  in  thy  most  mervailous  face; 

The  'solus'  in  thy  teeth,  and  in  thy  throat. 

And  in  thy  hateful  lungs,  yea,  in  thy  maw, 
perdy. 

And,  which  is  worse,  within  thy  nasty  mouth! 

I  do  retort  the  'solus'  in  thy  bowels; 

For  I  can  take,  and  Pistol's  cock  is  up. 

And  flashing  fire  will  follow.  60 

Nym.  I  am  not  Barbason;  you  cannot  conjure 

sharp-eared,  white   dogs,   much   imported    formerly   as   favorites    for 
ladies." — I.  G. 

In  a  treatise  by  Abraham  Fleming  "Of  English  Dogges,"  1576, 
occurs  the  following:  "Iceland  dogges,  curled  and  rough  all  over, 
which,  by  reason  of  the  length  of  their  heare,  make  show  neither  of 
face  nor  of  body.  And  yet  thes  curres,  forsoothe,  because  they 
are  so  strange,  are  greatly  set  by,  esteemed,  taken  up,  and  made  of, 
many  times  instead  of  the  spaniell  gentle  or  comforter."  Island 
cur  is  again  used  as  a  term  of  contempt  in  Epigrams  served  out  in 
Fifty-two  several  Dishes: 

"He  wears  a  gown  lac'd  round,  laid  down  with  furre, 
Or,  miser-like,  a  pouch  where  never  man 
Could  thrust  his  finger,  but  this  island  curre." 

— H.  N.  H. 

56.  "Perdy"  is  an  old  corruption  of  far  dieu,  which  seems  to  have 
been  going  out  of  use  in  the  Poet's  time.  It  occurs  often  in  the 
old  plays,  and  was  probably  taken  thence  by  Pistol,  whose  talk 
is  chiefly  made  up  from  the  gleanings  of  the  playhouse,  the  grog- 
gery,  and  the  brothel. — H.  N.  H. 

59.  "for  I  can  take";  Pistol  evidently  uses  this  phrase  in  the  same 
sense  it  bears  in  our  time.  He  supposes  Nym  to  have  conveyed 
some  dark  insult  by  the  word  solus,  and  he  prides  himself  on  his 
ability  to  take  the  meaning  of  such  insinuations.  Malone,  not  taking 
this,  proposed  to  read  talk. — H.  N.  H. 

35 


Act  II.  Sc.  i.  THE  LIFE  OF 

me.  I  have  an  humor  to  knock  you  indif- 
ferently well.  If  you  grow  foul  with  me, 
Pistol,  I  will  scour  you  with  my  rapier,  as  I 
may,  in  fair  terms:  if  you  would  walk  off, 
I  would  prick  your  guts  a  little,  in  good 
terms,  as  I  may :  and  that 's  the  humor  of  it. 

Pist.  O  braggart  vile,  and  damned  furious  wight! 
The  grave  doth  gape,  and  doting  death  is  near ; 
Therefore  exhale.  ^^ 

Bard.  Hear  me,  hear  me  what  I  say:  he  that 
strikes  the  first  stroke,  I  '11  run  him  up  to 
the  hilts,  as  I  am  a  soldier.  \_Draws. 

Pist.  An  oath  of  mickle  might;  and  fury  shall 
abate. 
Give  me  thy  fist,  thy  fore- foot  to  me  give: 
Thy  spirits  are  most  tall. 

Nym.  I  will  cut  thy  throat,  one  time  or  other, 
in  fair  terms :  that  is  the  humor  of  it. 

Pist.  'Couple  a  gorge!' 

That  is  the  word.     I  thee  defy  again.  80 

O  hound  of  Crete,  think'st  thou  my  spouse  to 

get? 
No;  to  the  spital  go. 
And  from  the  powdering-tub  of  infamy 
Fetch  forth  the  lazar  kite  of  Cressid's  kind, 

83.  "the  powderitiff-tub" ;  used  in  the  treatment  of  a  disease. — 
C.  H.  H. 

84.  "lazar  kite  of  Cressid's  kind";  Troilus'  faithless  mistress  Cres- 
sida,  according  to  Henryson's  Testament  of  Creseide,  ended  her  days 
as  a  leper  in  the  "spital."  The  phrase  "kite  of  Cressid's  kind"  had 
already  been  used  by  Gascoigne. — C.  H.  H. 

"lazar  kite  of  Cressid's  kind";  probably  a  scrap  from  some  old 
play.  In  certain  parallel  passages  the  readings  vary  between  "Kite," 
"Kit,"  "Catte";  "Kit,"  too,  is  the  spelling  of  F.  4.— I.  G. 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  li.  Sc.  i. 

Doll  Tearsheet  she  by  name,  and  her  espouse : 
I  have,  and  I  will  hold,  the  quondam  Quickly 
For  the  only  she ;  and — pauca,  there  's  enough. 
Go  to. 

Enter  the  Boy, 

Boy.  Mine  host  Pistol,  you  must  come  to  my 
master,  and  you,  hostess :  he  is  very  sick,  and   90 
would  to   bed.     Good   Bardolph,   put   thy 
face  between  his  sheets,  and  do  the  office  of 
a  warming-pan.     Faith,  he  's  very  ill. 

Bard.  Away,  you  rogue! 

Host.  By  my  troth,  he  '11  yield  the  crow  a  pud- 
ding one  of  these  days.     The  king  has  killed 
his  heart.     Good  husband,  come  home  pres 
ently.  [Exeunt  Hostess  and  boy. 

Bard.  Come,  shall  I  make  you  two  friends? 
We  must  to  France  together :  why  the  devil  100 
should  we  keep  knives  to  cut  one  another's 
throats  ? 

Pist.  Let  floods  o'erswell,  and  fiends  for  food 
howl  on! 

Nym.  You  '11  pay  me  the  eight  shillings  I  won 
of  you  at  betting? 

Pist.  Base  is  the  slave  that  pays. 

Nym.  That  now  I  will  have :  that 's  the  humor 
of  it. 

90.  "and  you,  hostess";  Ff.  "and  your  Ilostesse";  F.  4,  "Hostes 
you  must  come  straight  to  my  master,  and  you  Hoste  Pistole." — 
I.  G. 

107.  "Base  is  the  slave  that  pays";  a  quotation  from  an  old  play. 
Steevens  quotes  "My  motto  shall  be,  Base  is  the  man  that  pays" 
(Heywood's  "Fair  Maid  of  the   ires/").— I.  G. 

37 


Act  II.  Sc.  i.  THE  LIFE  OF 

Pist.  As  manhood  shall  compound :  push  home.  HO 

[They  draw. 

Bard.  By  this  sword,  he  that  makes  the  first 
thrust,  I  '11  kill  him ;  by  this  sword,  I  will. 

Pist.  Sword  is  an  oath,  and  oaths  must  have 
their  course. 

Bard.  Corporal  Nym,  an  thou  wilt  be  friends, 
be  friends:  an  thou  wilt  not,  why,  then,  be 
enemies  with  me  too.     Prithee,  put  up. 

Nym.  I  shall  have  my  eight  shillings  I  won  of 
you  at  betting? 

Pist.  A  noble  shalt  thou  have  and  present  pay  1 120 
And  liquor  likewise  will  I  give  to  thee, 
And  friendship  shall  combine,  and  brotherhood : 
I  '11  live  by  Nym,  and  Nym  shall  live  by  me; 
Is  not  this  just?  for  I  shall  sutler  be 
Unto  the  camp,  and  profits  will  accrue. 
Give  me  thy  hand. 

Nym.  I  shall  have  my  noble? 

Pist.  In  cash  most  justly  paid. 

Nym.  Well,  then,  that 's  the  humor  of 't. 

Re-enter  Hostess. 

Host.  As  ever  you  came  of  women,  come  in  1^ 
quickly  to  Sir  John.     Ah,  poor  heart!  he  is 
so  shaked  of  a  burning  quotidian  tertain, 
that  it  is  most  lamentable  to  behold.     Sweet 
men,  come  to  him. 

Nym.  The  king  hath  run  bad  humors  on  the 
knight ;  that 's  the  even  of  it. 

118  and  119  omitted  in  Ff.— I.  G. 

123.  "Nym";  a  play  on  the  sense  "nimming,"  "theft."— C.  H.  H. 

38 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  ii.  Sc.  ii. 

Pist.  Nym,  thou  hast  spoke  the  right; 

His  heart  is  fracted  and  corroborate. 
Nym.  The  king  is  a  good  king:  but  it  must  be 

as  it  may :  he  passes  some  humors  and  ca- 140 

reers. 
Pist.  Let  us  condole  the  knight;  for,  lambkins,  we 
will  live. 

Scene  II 

Southampton.    A  council-chamber. 

Enter  Exeter,  Bedford,  and  Westmoreland. 

Bed.  'Fore  God,  his  grace  is  bold,  to  trust  these 

traitors. 
Eoce.  They  shall  be  apprehended  by  and  by. 
West.  How  smooth  and  even  they  do  bear  them- 
selves ! 
As  if  allegiance  in  their  bosoms  sat, 
Crowned  with  faith  and  constant  loyalty. 
Bed.  The  king  hath  note  of  all  that  they  intend, 

By  interception  which  they  dream  not  of. 
Exe.  Nay,  but  the  man  that  was  his  bedfellow. 
Whom  he  hath  dull'd  and  cloy'd  with  gracious 

favors. 
That  he  should,  for  a  foreign  purse,  so  sell    10 
His  sovereign's  life  to  death  and  treachery. 

8.  "the  man  that  was  his  bed-fellow";  i.  e.  Lord  Scroop,  of  whom 
Holinshed  reports  this  as  a  mark  of  his  intimacy  with  the  king. — 
C.  H.  H. 

9.  "Whom  he  hath  dull'd  and  cloy'd  with  gracious  favors";  Ff. 
3,  4,  "lull'd"  Qq.,  followed  by  Steevens,  "whom  he  hath  cloy'd 
and  grac'd  with  princely  favours." — I.  G. 

89 


Act  11.  Sc.  ii.  THE  LIFE  OF 

Trumpets  sound.     Enter  King  Henry,  Scroop, 
Cambridge,  Grey,  and  Attendants. 

K.  Hen.  Now   sits  the   wind   fair,   and  we  will 

aboard. 
My  Lord  of  Cambridge,  and  my  kind  Lord  of 

Masham, 
And  you,   my   gentle   knight,   give   me  your 

thoughts : 
Think  you  not  that  the  powers  we  bear  with  us 
Will  cut  their  passage  through  the  force  of 

France, 
Doing  the  execution  and  the  act 
For  which  we  have  in  head  assembled  them? 
Scroop.  No  doubt,  my  liege,  if  each  man  do  his 

best. 
K.  Hen.  I  doubt  not  that;  since  we  are  well  per- 
suaded 20 
We  carry  not  a  heart  with  us  from  hence 
That  grows  not  in  a  fair  consent  with  ours, 
Nor  leave  not  one  behind  that  doth  not  wish 
Success  and  conquest  to  attend  on  us. 
Cam.  Never  was  monarch  better  fear'd  and  loved 
Than  is  your  majesty:  there's  not,  I  think,  a 

subject 
That  sits  in  heart-grief  and  uneasiness 
Under  the  sweet  shade  of  your  government. 
Grey.  True :  those  that  were  your  father's  enemies 
Have  steep'd  their  galls  in  honey,  and  do  serve 

you  30 

With  hearts  create  of  duty  and  of  zeal. 

18.  "in  head";  in  force.— C.  H.  H. 
40 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  ii.  Sc.  ii. 

K,  Hen,  We  therefore  have  great  cause  of  thank- 
fulness ; 
And  shall  forget  the  office  of  our  hand, 
Sooner  than  quittance  of  desert  and  merit 
According  to  the  weight  and  worthiness. 

Scroop.  So  service  shall  with  steeled  sinews  toil, 
And  labor  shall  refresh  itself  with  hope, 
To  do  your  grace  incessant  services. 

K.  Hen.  We  judge  no  less.     Uncle  of  Exeter, 
Enlarge  the  man  committed  yesterday,         40 
That  rail'd  against  our  person:  we  consider 
It  was  excess  of  wine  that  set  him  on; 
And  on  his  more  advice  we  pardon  him. 

Scroop.  That 's  mercy,  but  too  much  security : 
Let  him  be  punish'd,  sovereign,  lest  example 
Breed,  by  his  sufferance,  more  of  such  a  kind. 

K.  Hen.  O,  let  us  yet  be  merciful. 

Cam.  So  may  your  highness,  and  yet  punish  too. 

Grey.  Sir, 

You  show  great  mercy,  if  you  give  him  life,  50 
After  the  taste  of  much  correction. 

K.  Hen.  Alas,  your  too  much  love  and  care  of  me 
Are  heavy  orisons  'gainst  this  poor  wretch  I 
If  little  faults,  proceeding  on  distemper. 
Shall  not  be  wink'd  at,  how  shall  we  stretch  our 
eye 

33.  "o^ce";  use.— C.  H.  H. 

64.  "distemper"  for  intemperance,  or  riotous  excess.  Thus  in 
Othello:  "Full  of  supper,  and  distempering  draughts."  And  in 
Holinshed:  "Give  him  wine  and  strong  drink  in  such  excessive 
sort,  that  he  was  therewith  distempered  and  reeled  as  he  went." — 
H.  N.  H. 


41 


Act  II.  Sc.  ii.  THE  LIFE  OF 

When  capital  crimes,  chew'd,  swallow 'd  and  di- 
gested, 

Appear   before  us?     We'll  yet  enlarge  that 
man, 

Though  Cambridge,  Scroop  and  Grey,  in  their 
dear  care 

And  tender  preservation  of  our  person, 

Would  have  him  punish'd.     And  now  to  our 
French  causes:  60 

Who  are  the  late  commissioners? 
Cam.  I  one,  my  lord: 

Your  highness  bade  me  ask  for  it  to-day. 
Scroop.  So  did  you  me,  my  liege. 
Grey.  And  I,  my  royal  sovereign. 
K.  Hen.  Then,  Richard  Earl  of  Cambridge,  there 
is  yours; 

There  yours.  Lord  Scroop  of  Masham ;  and,  sir 
knight, 

Grey  of  Northumberland,  this  same  is  yours: 

Read  them ;  and  know,  I  know  your  worthiness. 

My  Lord  of  Westmoreland,   and  uncle   Ex- 
eter, 70 

We   will    aboard   to-night.     Why,    how   now, 
gentlemen ! 

What  see  you  in  those  papers  that  you  lose 

So    much    complexion?     Look    ye,    how    they 
change  I 

61.  "Who  are  the  late  commissioners?" ;  Vaughan  conj.  "Who  ask 
the  late  commissions?";  Collier  MS.  "the  state  c";  but  no  change 
is  necessary;  "late  commissioners"^ 'latelY  appointed  commission- 
ers."—I.  G. 

63.  "for  it";  i.  e.  for  my  commission. — I.  G. 

42 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  II.  Sc.  ii. 

Their  cheeks  are  paper.     Why,  what  read  you 

there, 
That  hath  so  cowarded  and  chased  your  blood 
Out  of  appearance? 
Cam.  I  do  confess  my  fault; 

And  do  submit  me  to  your  highness'  mercy. 

ct  r  To  which  we  all  appeal. 

Scroop.  J  ^^ 

K.  Hen.  The  mercy  that  was  quick  in  us  but  late, 
By  your  own  counsel  is  suppress'd  and  kill'd; 
You  must  not   dare,    for   shame,   to  talk   of 
mercy ;  81 

For  your  own  reasons  turn  into  your  bosoms. 
As  dogs  upon  their  masters,  worrying  you. 
See  you,  my  princes  and  my  noble  peers, 
These  English  monsters!     My  Lord  of  Cam- 
bridge here. 
You  know  how  apt  our  love  was  to  accord 
To  furnish  him  with  all  appertinents 
Belonging  to  his  honor;  and  this  man 
Hath,  for  a  few  light  crowns,  lightly  conspired, 
And  sworn  unto  the  practices  of  France,        90 
To  kill  us  here  in  Hampton:  to  the  which 
This  knight,  no  less  for  bounty  bound  to  us 
Than  Cambridge  is,  hath  likewise  sworn.     But, 

O, 
What  shall  I  say  to  thee.  Lord  Scroop?  thou 

cruel, 
Ingrateful,  savage  and  inhuman  creature! 
Thou  that  didst  bear  the  key  of  all  my  counsels, 
That  knew'st  the  very  bottom  of  my  soul. 
That  almost  mightst  have  coin'd  me  into  gold, 

43 


Act  II.  Sc.  ii.  THE  LIFE  OF 

Wouldst  thou  have  practised  on  me  for  thy  use, 
May  it  be  possible,  that  foreign  hire  100 

Could  out  of  thee  extract  one  spark  of  evil 
That  might  annoy  my  finger?  'tis  so  strange, 
That,  though  the  truth  of  it  stands  off  as  gross 
As  black  and  white,  my  eye  will  scarcely  see  it. 
Treason  and  murder  ever  kept  together, 
As  two  j'-oke-devils  sworn  to  cither's  purpose, 
Working  so  grossly  in  a  natural  cause, 
That  admiration  did  not  hoop  at  them: 
But  thou,  'gainst  all  proportion,  didst  bring  in 
Wonder  to  wait  on  treason  and  on  murder:  HO 
And  whatsoever  cunning  fiend  it  was 
That  wrought  upon  thee  so  preposterously 
Hath  got  the  voice  in  hell  for  excellence : 
All  other  devils  that  suggest  by  treasons 
Do  botch  and  bungle  up  damnation 
With  patches,  colors,  and  with  forms  being 

fetch'd 
From  glistering  semblances  of  piety; 
But  he  that  temper'd  thee  bade  thee  stand  up. 
Gave  thee  no  instance  why  thou  shouldst  do 

treason. 
Unless  to  dub  thee  with  the  name  of  traitor.  120 
If  that  same  demon  that  hath  gull'd  thee  thus 
Should  with  his  lion  gait  walk  the  whole  world, 

103.  "stands  of";  stands  out.— C.  H.  H. 

114.  "by  treasons";  Mason  conj.  "to  treasons";  Moberly  conj.  "by 
reasons" — I,  G. 

118,  "But  he  that  temper'd  thee  bade  thee  stand  up";  Moberly 
conj.  "But  he  that  tempter-fiend  that  stirr'd  thee  up";  Dyce,  John- 
son conj.  "tempted";  Ff.,  "bud"  Vaughan  conj.  "sin  thus."  No 
emendation  is  necessary,  though  it  is  uncertain  what  the  exact  force 
of  "bade  thee  stand  up"  may  be,  whether  (1)  "like  an  honest-raan," 
or  (2)  "rise  in  rebellion." — I.  G. 

44 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  ii.  Sc.  ii. 

He  might  return  to  vasty  Tartar  back, 

And  tell  the  legions  'I  can  never  win 

A  soul  so  easy  as  that  Englishman's.' 

O,  how  hast  thou  with  jealousy  infected 

The  sweetness  of  affiance!     Show  men  dutiful? 

Why,    so   didst   thou:    seem   they   grave   and 

learned  ? 
Why,  so  didst  thou :  come  they  of  noble  family  ? 
Why,  so  didst  thou :  seem  they  religious  ?      130 
Why,  so  didst  thou :  or  are  they  spare  in  diet. 
Free  from  gross  passion  or  of  mirth  or  anger. 
Constant  in  spirit,  not  swerving  with  the  blood, 
Garnish'd  and  deck'd  in  modest  complement. 
Not  working  with  the  eye  without  the  ear. 
And  but  in  purged  judgment  trusting  neither? 
Such  and  so  finely  bolted  didst  thou  seem; 
And  thus  thy  fall  hath  left  a  kind  of  blot, 
To  mark  the  full- fraught  man  and  best  indued 
With  some  suspicion.     I  will  weep  for  thee ;  140 
For  this  revolt  of  thine,  methinks,  is  like 
Another  fall  of  man.     Their  faults  are  open: 

126,  127.  "O,  .  .  .  affiance  1";  "Shakespeare  uses  this  aggrava- 
tion of  the  guilt  of  treachery  with  great  judgment.  One  of  the 
worst  consequences  of  breach  of  trust  is  the  diminution  of  that  confi- 
dence which  makes  the  happiness  of  life,  and  the  dissemination  of 
suspicion,  which  is  the  poison  of  society"  (Johnson). — H.  N.  H. 

135.  "Not  working  with  the  eye  without  the  ear";  not  judging  by 
the  looks  of  men  without  having  had  intercourse  with  them. — C.  H.  H. 

139-140.  "To  mark  the  full-fraught  man  and  best  indued  With 
some  suspicion";  Malone's  emendation;  Theobald,  "the  best,"  etc.; 
Ff.,  "To  make  thee  full  fraught  man,  and  best  indued,"  etc.;  Pope, 
"To  make  the  full-fraught  man,  the  best,  endu'd  With,"  etc. — I.  G. 

142.  "another  fall  of  man";  Lord  Scroop  has  already  been  spoken 
of  as  having  been  the  king's  bedfellow.  Holinshed  gives  the  fol- 
lowing account  of  him:  "The  said  lord  Scroope  was  in  such  favour 
with  the  king,  that  he  admitted  him  sometime  to  be  his  bedfellow,  in 

4i| 


Act  II.  Sc.  ii.  THE  LIFE  OF 

Arrest  them  to  the  answer  of  the  law; 
And  God  acquit  them  of  their  practices ! 

Exe.  I  arrest  thee  of  high  treason,  by  the  name  of 
Richard  Earl  of  Cambridge. 

I  arrest  thee  of  high  treason,  by  the  name  of 
Henry  Lord  Scroop  of  Masham. 

I  arrest  thee  of  high  treason,  by  the  name  of 
Thomas  Grey,  knight,  of  Northumberland.  150 

Scroop.  Our  purposes  God  justly  hath  discover'd; 
And  I  repent  my  fault  more  than  my  death; 
Which  I  beseech  your  highness  to  forgive, 
Although  my  body  pay  the  price  of  it. 

Cam.  For  me,  the  gold  of  France  did  not  seduce; 
Although  I  did  admit  it  as  a  motive 
The  sooner  to  effect  what  I  intended: 
But  God  be  thanked  for  prevention; 
Which  I  in  sufferance  heartily  will  rejoice, 
Beseeching  God  and  you  to  pardon  me.        160 

Grey.  Never  did  faithful  subject  more  rejoice 
At  the  discovery  of  most  dangerous  treason 
Than  I  do  at  this  hour  joy  o'er  myself, 

whose  fidelitie  the  king  reposed  such  trust,  that  when  anie  privat 
or  publike  councell  was  in  hand,  this  lord  had  much  in  the  determina- 
tion of  it.  For  he  represented  so  great  gravitie  in  his  countenance, 
such  modestie  in  behaviour,  and  so  vertuous  zeale  to  all  godlinesse 
in  his  talke,  that  whatsoever  he  said  was  thought  for  the  most  part 
necessarie  to  be  doone  and  followed." — H.  N.  H. 

148.  "Henry";  Theobald's  correction  from  Qq. ;  Ff.,  "Thomas." — 
I.  G. 

152.  "more  than  my  death";  more  than  I  regret  my  death. — 
C.  H.  H. 

157.  "what  I  intended";  Halle  in  this  place  indicates  that  (as 
"diverse  writer")  his  real  aim  was  to  secure  the  crown  of  the  Earl 
of  March.— C.   H.  H. 

159.  That  is,  at  which  prevention,  in  suffering,  I  will  heartily  re- 
joice.— H.  N.  H. 

46 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  II.  Sc.  ii. 

Prevented  from  a  damned  enterprise: 
My  fault,  but  not  my  body,  pardon,  sovereign. 
K.  Hen.  God  quit  you  in  his  mercy!     Hear  your 

sentence. 
You  have  conspired  against  our  royal  person, 
Join'd  with  an  enemy  proclaim'd,  and  from  his 

coffers 
Received  the  golden  earnest  of  our  death; 
Wherein  you  would  have  sold  your  king  to 

slaughter,  170 

His  princes  and  his  peers  to  servitude, 
His  subjects  to  oppression  and  contempt, 
And  his  whole  kingdom  into  desolation. 
Touching  our  person  seek  we  no  revenge; 
But  we  our  kingdom's  safety  must  so  tender. 
Whose  ruin  you  have  sought,  that  to  her  laws 
We  do  deliver  you.     Get  you  therefore  hence, 
Poor  miserable  wretches,  to  your  death: 
The  taste  whereof,  God  of  his  mercy  give      179 
You  patience  to  endure,  and  true  repentance 
Of  all  your  dear  offenses!     Bear  them  hence. 
[Eoceunt  Cambridge^  Scroop,  and  Grey, 

guarded. 

165.  "my  fault,  hut  not  my  body";  probably  derived  from  a  letter 
addressed  to  the  queen  in  1585  by  Parry,  after  his  conviction  of 
treason:  "Discharge  me  A  culpa,  but  not  A  posna,  good  ladie." — 
C.  H.  H. 

176,  "you  have";  so  Knight,  from  Qq.;  Ff,  2,  3,  4,  "you  three"; 
F.  1,  "you."— I.  G. 

177-181.  "get  .  .  .  ofensesl";  so  in  Holinshed:  "Revenge 
herein  touching  my  person,  though  I  seeke  not;  yet  for  safeguard  of 
you,  my  deere  freends,  and  for  due  preservation  of  all  sorts,  I  am 
by  office  to  cause  example  to  be  showed.  Get  ye  hence,  therefore, 
ye  poore  miserable  wretches,  to  the  receiving  of  your  just  reward, 
wherein  Gods  majestic  give  ye  grace  of  his  mercie,  and  repentance 
of  jrour  heinous  offenses." — H.  N.  H. 

47 


Act  II.  Sc.  iii.  THE  LIFE  OF 

Now,  lords,  for  France;  the  enterprise  whereof 
Shall  be  to  you,  as  us,  like  glorious. 
We  doubt  not  of  a  fair  and  lucky  war, 
Since  God  so  graciously  hath  brought  to  light 
This  dangerous  treason  lurking  in  our  way 
To  hinder  our  beginnings.     We  doubt  not  now 
But  every  rub  is  smoothed  on  our  way. 
Then  forth,  dear  countrymen :  let  us  deliver 
Our  puissance  into  the  hand  of  God,  190 

Putting  it  straight  in  expedition. 
Cheerly  to  sea;  the  signs  of  war  advance: 
No  king  of  England,  if  not  king  of  France. 

[Ecceunt. 


Scene  III 

London.     Before  a  tavern. 
Enter  Pistol^  Hostess,  Nym,  Bardolphj  and  Boy. 

Host.  Prithee,    honej'^-sweet   husband,    let    me 
bring  thee  to  Staines. 

Pist.  No ;  for  my  manly  heart  doth  yearn. 

Bardolph,  be  blithe:  Nym,  rouse  thy  vaunting 

veins : 
Boy,  bristle  thy  courage  up;  for  Falstaff  he  is 

dead. 
And  we  must  yearn  therefore. 

Bard.  Would  I  were  with  him,  wheresome'er 
he  is,  either  in  heaven  or  in  hell ! 

Host.  Nay,  sure,  he  's  not  in  hell :  he  's  in  Ar- 
thur's bosom,  if  ever  man  went  to  Arthur's   10 

48 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  ii.  Sc.  m. 

bosom.  A'  made  a  finer  end  and  went 
away  an  it  had  been  any  christom  child;  a' 
parted  even  just  between  twelve  and  one,  - 
even  at  the  turning  o'  the  tide:  for  after  I 
saw  him  fumble  with  the  sheets,  and  play 
with  flowers,  and  smile  upon  his  fingers' 
ends,  I  knew  there  was  but  one  way ;  for  his 
nose;  was  as  sharp  as  a  pen,  and  a'  babbled 
of   green   fields.     'How   now.    Sir   Johnl' 

11.  "A'  made  a  finer  end";  Ff.  1,  2,  "a  finer";  Ft.  3,  4,  "finei"; 
Capell,  "a  fine";  Johnson  conj.  "a  final";  Vaughan  conj.  "a  fair." 
Probably  Mistress  Quickly's  words  are  correctly  reported,  and  should 
not  be  edited. — I.  G. 

14.  "at  the  turning  o'  the  tide";  according  to  a  current  belief, 
death  took  place  only  during  the  ebb. — C.  H.  H. 

15.  "fumble  with  the  sheets";  popularly  supposed  to  be  a  sign 
of  approaching  death. — I.  G. 

18,  19.  "and  a'  babbled  of  green  fields";  Theobald's  famous  cor- 
rection of  Ff,,  "and  a  Table  of  greene  fields";  Theobald's  reading 
was  suggested  to  him  by  a  MS.  note  written  in  a  copy  of  Shake- 
speare by  "a  gentleman  sometime  deceased,"  who  proposed  "And  a' 
talked  of  green  fielas."  The  Quartos  omit  the  line,  giving  the  pas- 
sage thus: — 

"His  nose  was  as  sharp  as  a  pen. 
For  when  I  saw  him  fumble  with  the  sheetes. 
And  talk  of  fioures,  and  smile  upo  his  fingers  ends, 
I  knew  there  was  no  way  but  one." 

(n.  b.  "talk  of  fioures").  Many  suggestions  have  been  put  forward 
since  Pope  explained  that  the  words  were  part  of  a  stage  direc- 
tion, and  that  "Greenfield  was  the  name  of  the  property-man  in 
that  time  who  furnished  implements,  &c.,  for  the  actors."  The 
marginal  stage-direction  was,  according  to  him,  "A  table  of  green- 
fields."  Malone,  "in  a  table  of  green  fields,"  Collier  MS.,  "on  a  table 
of  green  freese."  Recently  M.  Henry  Bradley  has  pointed  out  that 
"green  field"  was  occasionally  used  for  the  exchequer  table,  a  table 
of  green  baize.  A  combination  of  this  suggestion  with  the  reading 
of  the  Collier  MS.  would  require  merely  the  change  of  "and"  to 
"on"  but  one  cannot  easily  give  up  one's  perfect  faith  in  Theobald's 
most  brilliant  conjecture. — I.  G. 
Delius,  almost  alone  among  recent  editors,  retains  the  Folio  read- 
XVII— 4  49 


30 


Act  II.  Sc.  iii.  THE  LIFE  OF 

quoth  I :  'what,  man !  be  o'  good  cheer.'  So  20 
a'  cried  out,  'God,  God,  God!'  three  or  four 
times.  Now  I,  to  comfort  him,  bid  him  a' 
should  not  think  of  God ;  I  hoped  there  was 
no  need  to  trouble  himself  with  any  such 
thoughts  yet.  So  a'  bade  me  lay  more 
clothes  on  his  feet:  I  put  my  hand  into  the 
bed  and  felt  them,  and  they  were  as  cold  as 
any  stone ;  then  I  felt  to  his  knees,  and  they 
were  as  cold  as  any  stone,  and  so  upward 
and  upward,  and  all  was  as  cold  as  any 
stone. 

Nym.  They  say  he  cried  out  of  sack. 

Host.  Aye,  that  a'  did. 

Bard.  And  of  women. 

Host.  Nay,  that  a'  did  not. 

Boy.  Yes,  that  a'  did ;  and  said  they  were  devils 
incarnate. 

Host.  A'  could  never  abide  carnation;  'twas  a 
color  he  never  hked. 

Boy.  A'  said  once,  the  devil  would  have  him 
about  women. 

Host.  A'  did  in  some  sort,  indeed,  handle  wo- 
men ;  but  then  he  was  rheumatic,  and  talked 
of  the  whore  of  Babylon. 

Boy.  Do  you  not  remember,  a'  saw  a  flea  stick 
upon  Bardolph's  nose,  and  a'  said  it  was  a 
black  soul  burning  in  hell-fire? 

Bard.  Well,  the  fuel  is  gone  that  maintained 

ing,  on  account  of  Mrs.  Quickly's  habitual  proneness  to  nonsense. 
But  her  nonsense  is  always  intelligible. — C.  H.  H. 


50 


40 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  II.  Sc.  iii. 

that  fire :  that 's  all.  the  riches  I  got  in  his 
service.  5U 

Nym.  Shall  we  shog?  the  king  will  be  gone 
from  Southampton. 

Fist.  Come,  let 's  away.     My  love,  give  me  thy 
lips. 
Look  to  my  chattels  and  my  movables: 
Let  senses  rule;  the  word  is  'Pitch  and  Pay;* 
Trust  none ; 

For  oaths  are  straws,  men's  faiths  are  wafer- 
cakes 
And  hold-fast  is  the  only  dog,  my  duck: 
Therefore,  Caveto  be  thy  counsellor.  59 

Go,  clear  thy  crystals.     Yoke- fellows  in  arms, 
Let  us  to  France;  like  horse-leeches,  my  boys, 
To  suck,  to  suck,  the  very  blood  to  suck  I 

Boy.  And  that 's  but  unwholesome  food,  they 
say. 

Pist.  Touch  her  soft  mouth,  and  march. 

Bard.  Farewell,  hostess.  [Kissing  her. 

Nym.  I  cannot  kiss,  that  is  the  humor  of  it ;  but, 
adieu. 

Pist.  Let  housewifery  appear:  keep  close,  I  thee 
command. 

Host.  Farewell;  adieu.  [EiVeunt.   70 

55.  "Let  senses  rule";  i.  e.  "let  prudence  govern  you"  (Steevens). — 
I.  G. 

Pistol  puts  forth  a  string  of  proverbs.  "Pitch  and  pay,  and  go 
your  way,"  is  one  in  Florio's  Collection. — H.  N.  H. 

"Pitch  and  Pay";  "pay  down"  ready  money;  originally  it  seems 
a  phrase  of  the  London  cloth-trade,  meaning  "pitch"  (or  deposit) 
the  cloth  in  the  cloth-hall,  and  pay  (as  a  statute  required)  at  the 
same  time  the  fee  or  hallage. — C.  H.  H. 

58.  "And  hold- fast  is  the  only  dog";  cp.  "Brag  is  a  good  dog, 
but  holdfast  is  a  better." — I.  G. 

69.  "Caveto,"  Qq.,  "cophetua."—!.  G. 

51 


Act  II.  Sc.  iv.  THE  LIFE  OF 


Scene  IV 

France.     The  King's  palace. 

Flourish.  Enter  the  French  King,  the  Dauphin^ 
the  Dukes  of  Berri  and  Bretagne,  the  Con- 
stable, and  others, 

Fr,  King.  Thus    comes    the    English    with    full 
power  upon  us; 
And  more  than  carefully  it  us  concerns 
To  answer  royally  in  our  defenses. 
Therefore  the  Dukes  of  Berri  and  of  Bretagne, 
Of  Brabant  and  of  Orleans,  shall  make  forth, 
And  you.  Prince  Dauphin,  with  all  swift  dis- 
patch. 
To  line  and  new  repair  our  towns  of  war 
With  men  of  courage  and  with  means  defend- 
ant; 
For  England  his  approaches  makes  as  fierce 
As  waters  to  the  sucking  of  a  gulf.  1^ 

It  fits  us  then  to  be  as  provident 
As  fear  may  teach  us  out  of  late  examples 
Left  by  the  fatal  and  neglected  English 
Upon  our  fields. 
t)au.  My  most  redoubted  father. 

It  is  most  meet  we  arm  us  'gainst  the  foe ; 
For  peace  itself  should  not  so  dull  a  kingdom, 
Though  war  nor  no  known  quarrel  were  in 
question, 

Sc.  If.  "The  French  King";  Charles  VI   (1380-1422).— C.  H.  H. 
"The  Conttable";  Charles  d'Albret.— C.  H.  H. 

52 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  ii.  Sc.  iv. 

But  that  defenses,  musters,  preparations, 
Should  be  maintain'd,  assembled  and  collected. 
As  were  a  war  in  expectation.  20 

Therefore,  I  say  'tis  meet  we  all  go  forth 
To  view  the  sick  and  feeble  parts  of  France : 
And  let  us  do  it  with  no  show  of  fear ; 
No,  with  no  more  than  if  we  heard  that  Eng- 
land 
Were  busied  with  a  Whitsun  morris-dance: 
For,  my  good  liege,  she  is  so  idly  king'd. 
Her  scepter  so  fantastically  borne 
By  a  vain,  giddy,  shallow,  humorous  youth, 
That  fear  attends  her  not. 

Con.  O  peace,  Prince  Dauphin! 

You  are  too  much  mistaken  in  this  king :        30 
Question  your  grace  the  late  ambassadors. 
With  what  great  state  he  heard  their  embassy. 
How  well  supplied  with  noble  counsellors, 
How  modest  in  exception,  and  withal 
How  terrible  in  constant  resolution. 
And  you  shall  find  his  vanities  f  orespent 
Were  but  the  outside  of  the  Roman  Brutus, 
Covering  discretion  with  a  coat  of  folly; 
As  gardeners  do  with  ordure  hide  those  roots 
That  shall  first  spring  and  be  most  delicate.  40 

Dau.  Well,  'tis  not  so,  my  lord  high  constable ; 
But  though  we  think  it  so,  it  is  no  matter: 
In  cases  of  defense  'tis  best  to  weigh 
The  enemy  more  mighty  than  he  seems : 

34.  That    is,    how    difSdent    and    decent    in    making    objections. — 
H.  N.  H. 

37.  "the  Roman  Brutus";  the  assailant   of  Tarquin;  cf.   Lucrece, 
U.  1809-15.— C.  H.  H. 

53 


Act  II.  Sc.  iv.  THE  LIFE  OF 

So  the  proportions  of  defense  are  fill'd; 
Which  of  a  weak  and  niggardly  projection 
Doth,  Hke  a  miser,  spoil  his  coat  with  scanting 
A  little  cloth. 
Fr.  King.  Think  we  King  Harry  strong ; 

And,  princes,  look  you  strongly  arm  to  meet 

him. 
The  kindred  of  him  hath  been  flesh'd  upon  us; 
And  he  is  bred  out  of  that  bloody  strain        51 
That  haunted  us  in  our  familiar  paths: 
Witness  our  too  much  memorable  shame 
When  Cressy  battle  fatally  was  struck, 
And  all  our  princes  captived  by  the  hand 
Of  that  black  name,  Edward,  Black  Prince  of 

Wales ; 
Whiles  that  his   mountain  sire,   on  mountain 

standing. 
Up  in  the  air,  crown'd  with  the  golden  sun. 
Saw  his  heroical  seed,  and  smiled  to  see  him. 
Mangle  the  work  of  nature,  and  deface 
The  patterns  that  by  God  and  by  French  fa- 
thers 

Had  twenty  years  been  made.     This  is  a  stem 

\ 

46.  The  grammar  of  this  passage  is  somewhat  perplexed.  Being 
is  understood  after  which;  and  not  merely  which,  but  the  whole 
clause  is  the  subject  or  nominative  of  doth.  So  that  the  meaning 
comes  thus:  Which  being  ordered  after  a  weak  and  niggardly 
project  or  plan,  is  like  the  work  of  a  miser,  who  spoils  his  coat 
with  scanting  a  little  cloth. — H.  N.  H. 

57.  "mountain  sire";  Theobald,  "mounting  sire";  Collier,  Mitford 
conj.  "mighty  sire'';  "mountain"  evidently  means  "huge  as  a  moun- 
tain."—I.  G. 

"mountain  sire"  probably  refers  to  the  Welch  descent  of  Edward 
III:  he  was  of  a  stock  whose  blood  was  tempered  amidst  the  moun- 
tains of  Wales.— H.  N.  H. 

54 


60 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  II.  Sc.  iv. 

Of  that  victorious  stock;  and  let  us  fear 
The  native  mightiness  and  fate  of  him. 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Mess.  Ambassadors  from  Harry  King  of  Eng- 
land 
Do  crave  admittance  to  your  majesty. 
Fr.  King.  We  '11    give    them    present    audience. 
Go,  and  bring  them. 

[Exeunt  Messenger  and  certain  Lords. 
You  see  this  chase  is  hotly  follow'd,  friends. 
Dau.  Turn  head,  and  stop  pursuit;  for  coward 
dogs 
Most  spend  their  mouths  when  what  they  seem 
to  threaten  70 

Runs  far  before  them.     Good  my  sovereign. 
Take  up  the  English  short,  and  let  them  know 
Of  what  a  monarchy  you  are  the  head. 
Self-love,  my  liege,  is  not  so  vile  a  sin 
As  self -neglecting. 

Re-enter  Lords,  with  Exeter  and  train. 

Fr.  King.  From  our  brother  England? 

Exe.  From  him;  and  thus  he  greets  your  majesty. 
He  wills  you,  in  the  name  of  God  Almighty, 
That  you  divest  yourself,  and  lay  apart 
The  borrow'd  glories  that  by  gift  of  heaven. 
By  law  of  nature  and  of  nations,  'long  80 

To  him  and  to  his  heirs;  namely,  the  crown 
And  all  wide-stretched  honors  that  pertain 

70.  "Most  spend  their  mouths";  give  tongue  loudest;  a  technical 
term  of  hunting. — C.  H.  H. 

55 


Act  II.  Sc.  iv.  THE  LIFE.  OF 

By  custom  and  the  ordinance  of  times 

iUnto  the  crown  of  France.     That  you  may 

know 
'Tis  no  sinister  nor  no  awkward  claim, 
Pick'd  from  the  worm-holes  of  long-vanish'd 

days, 
Nor  from  the  dust  of  old  oblivion  raked, 
He  sends  you  this  most  memorable  line, 
In  every  branch  truly  demonstrative; 
Willing  you  overlook  this  pedigree:  90 

And  when  you  find  him  evenly  derived 
From  his  most  famed  of  famous  ancestors, 
Edward  the  third,  he  bids  you  then  resign 
Your  crown  and  kingdom,  indirectly  held 
From  him  the  native  and  true  challenger. 

Fr,  King,  Or  else  what  follows? 

Exe.  Bloody  constraint ;  for  if  you  hide  the  crown 
Even  in  your  hearts,  there  will  he  rake  for  it : 
Therefore  in  fierce  tempest  is  he  coming. 
In  thunder  and  in  earthquake,  like  a  Jove,    100 
That,  if  requiring  fail,  he  will  compel; 
And  bids  you,  in  the  bowels  of  the  Lord, 
Deliver  up  the  crown,  and  to  take  mercy 
On  the  poor  souls  for  whom  this  hungry  war 
Opens  his  vasty  jaws;  and  on  your  head 
Turning  the  widows'  tears,  the  orphans'  cries, 
The   dead   men's   blood,   the  pining   maidens' 

groans, 
For  husbands,  fathers  and  betrothed  lovers, 

99.  "fierce";  two  syllables.— C.  H.  H. 

102.  "in  the  bowels  of  the  Lord";  in  the  name  of  the  divine  mercy 
(Holinshed's  phrase).— C.  H.  H. 

5Q 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  II.  Sc.  iv. 

That  shall  be  swallow'd  in  this  controversy. 
This  is  his  claim,  his  threatening,  and  my  mes- 
sage ;  110 
Unless  the  Dauphin  be  in  presence  here, 
To  whom  expressly  I  bring  greeting  too. 

Fr.  King.  For  us,  we  will  consider  of  this  further ; 
To-morrow  shall  you  bear  our  full  intent 
Back  to  our  brother  England. 

Dau.  For  the  Dauphin, 

I  stand  here  for  him:  what  to  him  from  Eng- 
land? 

Exe.  Scorn  and  defiance;  slight  regard,  contempt. 
And  any  thing  that  may  not  misbecome 
The  mighty  sender,  doth  he  prize  you  at. 
Thus  says  my  king ;  an  if  your  father's  highness 
Do  not,  in  grant  of  all  demands  at  large,        121 
Sweeten  the  bitter  mock  you  sent  his  majesty, 
He  '11  call  you  to  so  hot  an  answer  of  it, 
That  caves  and  womby  vaultages  of  France 
Shall  chide  your  trespass,  and  return  your  mock 
In  second  accent  of  his  ordnance. 

Dau.  Say,  if  my  father  render  fair  return. 
It  is  against  my  will;  for  I  desire 
Nothing  but  odds  with  England:  to  that  end, 
As  matching  to  his  youth  and  vanity,  13^0 

I  did  present  him  with  the  Paris  balls. 

Exe.  He  '11  make  your  Paris  Louvre  shake  for  it, 
Were  it  the  mistress-court  of  mighty  Europe: 
And,  be  assured,  you  '11  find  a  difference. 
As  we  his  subjects  have  in  wonder  found, 
[Between  the  promise  of  his  greener  days 
And  these  he  masters  now:  now  he  weighs  time 
57 


Act  II.  Sc.  iv.  THE  LIFE  OF 

Even  to  the  utmost  grain;  that  you  shall  read 
In  your  own  losses,  if  he  stay  in  France. 
Fr.  King.  To-morrow  shall  you  know  our  mind 
at  full.  1^0 

Exe.  Dispatch  us  with  all  speed,  lest  that  our  king 
Come  here  himself  to  question  our  delay; 
For  he  is  footed  in  this  land  already. 
Fr,  King.  You  shall  be  soon  dispatch'd  with  fair 
conditions : 
A  night  is  but  small  breath  and  little  pause 
To  answer  matters  of  this  consequence. 

[Flourish.    Exeunt, 


58 


KING   HENRY   V  .  Prologue 


ACT  THIRD 
PROLOGUE 

Enter  Chorus. 

Chor.  Thus  with  imagined  wing  our  swift  scene 
flies 
In  motion  of  no  less  celerity 
Than  that  of  thought.     Suppose  that  you  have 

seen 
The  well-appointed  king  at  Hampton  pier 
Embark  his  royalty;  and  his  brave  fleet 
With  silken  streamers  the  young  Phoebus  fan- 
ning: 
Play  with  your  fancies,  and  in  them  behold 
Upon  the  hempen  tackle  ship-boys  climbing; 
Hear  the  shrill  whistle  which  doth  order  give 
To  sounds  confused;  behold  the  threaden  sails, 
Borne  with  the  invisible  and  creeping  wind,  H 
Draw  the  huge  bottoms  through  the  furrow'd 
sea, 

4.  "Well-appointed"  is  well  furnished  with  all  necessaries  of  war. 
— The  old  copies  read  "Dover  pier";  but  the  Poet  himself,  and  all 
accounts,  and  even  the  chronicles  which  he  followed,  say  that  the 
king  embarked  at  Southampton. — H.  N.  H. 

"Hampton,"  Theobald's  correction  of  Ff.  "Dover." — I.  G. 

6.  "fanning" ;  Rowe's  emendation  of  Ff.  1,  2,  "fayning,"  Ff.  3,  4, 
"faining";  Gould  conj.  "playing." — I.  G. 

"the  young  Phoebus  fanning";  fluttering  in  the  morning  sun, — 
C.  H.  H. 

59 


Prologue  THE  LIFE  OF 

Breasting  the  lofty  surge :  O,  do  but  think 
You  stand  upon  the  rivage  and  behold 
A  city  on  the  inconstant  billows  dancing; 
For  so  appears  this  fleet  majestical, 
Holding  due  course  to  Harfleur.     Follow,  fol- 
low: 
Grapple  your  minds  to  sternage  of  this  navy, 
And  leave  your  England,  as  dead  midnight  still. 
Guarded  with  grandsires,  babies  and  old  wo- 
men, 20 
Either  past  or  not  arrived  to  pith  and  puis- 
sance ; 
For  who  is  he,  whose  chin  is  but  enrich'd 
With  one  appearing  hair,  that  will  not  follow 
These    cull'd    and    choice-drawn    cavaliers    to 

France? 
Work,  work  your  thoughts,  and  therein  see  a 

siege ; 
Behold  the  ordnance  on  their  carriages. 
With  fatal  mouths  gaping  on  girded  Harfleur. 
Suppose  the  ambassador  from  the  French  comes 

back; 
Tells  Harrj'^  that  the  king  doth  offer  him 
Katharine  his  daughter,  and  with  her,  to  dowry, 
Some  petty  and  unprofitable  dukedoms.         31 

The  offer  likes  not:  and  the  nimble  gunner 

I 

28.  "Suppose,"  etc.  This  embassy  actually  met  Henry  at  Win- 
chester.—C.  H.  H. 

32-34.  "and  the  .  .  .  them";  linstock  was  a  stick  with  linen 
at  one  end,  used  as  a  match  for  firing  guns. — Chambers  were  small 
pieces  of  ordnance.  They  were  used  on  the  stage,  and  the  Globe 
Theater  was  burned  by  a  discharge  of  them  in  1613. — Of  course 
Shakespeare  was  a  reader  of  Spenser,  and  this  passage  yields  a 

60 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  ill.  Sc.  i. 

With  linstock  now  the  devihsh  cannon  touches, 

\_Alarum,  and  chambers  go  off. 

And  down  goes  all  before  them.     Still  be  kind, 

And  eke  out  our  performance  with  your  mind. 

[Exit. 

Scene  I 

France.    Before  Harfleur, 

Alarum.     Enter  King  Henry,  Exeter,  Bedford, 
Gloucester,  and  Soldiers,  with  scaling-ladders. 

K.  Hen.  Once  more  unto  the  breach,  dear  friends, 

once  more; 

Or  close  the  wall  up  with  our  English  dead. 

In  peace  there  's  nothing  so  becomes  a  man 

As  modest  stillness  and  humility : 

But  when  the  blast  of  war  blows  in  our  ears. 

Then  imitate  the  action  of  the  tiger; 

Stiffen  the  sinews,  summon  up  the  blood, 

Disguise  fair  nature  with  hard-favor'd  rage; 

I 

slight  trace  of  his  reading.    Thus  in   The  Faerie   Queene,  Book  i. 
can.  7,  Stan.  13: 

"As  when  that  divelish  yron  engin,  wrought 
In  deepest  hell,  and  fram'd  by  Furies  skill. 
With  windy  nitre  and  quick  sulphur  fraught, 
And  ramd  with  bollet  rownd,  ordained  to  kill, 
Conceiveth  fyre;  the  heavens  it  doth  fill 
With  thundring  noyse,  and  all  the  ayre  doth  choke. 
That  none  can  breath,  nor  see,  nor  heare  at  will." 

— H.  N.  H. 

35.  "Eke";  the  first  folio,  "eech";  the  others,  "ech" ;  probably 
representing  the  pronunciation  of  the  word. — I.  G. 

7.  "swnmon  wp"  Rowe's  emendation  of  Ff.  "commune  up." — 
I.  G. 

61 


Act  III.  Sc.  i.  THE  LIFE  OF 

Then  lend  the  eye  a  terrible  aspect; 
Let  it  pry  through  the  portage  of  the  head    10 
Like  the  brass  cannon ;  let  the  brow  o'erwhelm  it 
As  fearfully  as  doth  a  galled  rock 
O'erhang  and  jutty  his  confounded  base, 
Swill'd  with  the  wild  and  wasteful  ocean. 
Now  set  the  teeth  and  stretch  the  nostril  wide, 
Hold  hard  the  breath  and  bend  up  every  spirit 
To  his  full  height.     On,  on,  you  noblest  Eng- 
lish, 
Whose  blood  is  f et  from  fathers  of  war-proof ! 
Fathers  that,  like  so  many  Alexanders, 
Have  in  these  parts  from  morn  till  even  fought, 
And  sheathed  their  swords  for  lack  of  argu- 
ment :  21 
Dishonor  not  your  mothers;  now  attest 
That  those  whom  you  call'd  fathers  did  beget 

you. 
Be  copy  now  to  men  of  grosser  blood. 
And  teach  them  how  to  war.     And  you,  good 

yeomen. 
Whose  Hmbs  were  made  in  England,  show  us 

here 
The  mettle  of  your  pasture;  let  us  swear 

15.  "nostril";  Rowe's  emendation  of  Ff.  "nosthrill." — I.  G. 

17.  "noblest  English";  so  in  the  folio  of  1632.  The  first  folio  has 
"noblish  English,"  which  is  evidently  a  mistake,  the  printer  or 
transcriber  having  repeated  the  ending  ish.  Malone  reads  "noble 
English,"  which  is  better  in  itself,  but  has  not  quite  so  good  author- 
ity.— The  whole  speech  is  wanting  in  the  quartos. — H.  N.  H. 

21.  "argument";  matter.  The  parallel  to  Alexander  makes  it 
probable  that  lack  of  enemies  to  conquer  rather  than  of  "cause  to 
fight  for"  is  meant;  none  being  left  to  oppose  them. — C.  H.  H. 

24.  "be  copy";  of  course  copy  is  here  used  for  the  thing  copied, 
that  is,  the  pattern  or  model. — H.  N.  H. 

62 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  in.  Sc.  ii. 

That  you  are  worth  your  breeding;  which  I 

doubt  not; 
For  there  is  none  of  you  so  mean  and  base, 
That  hath  not  noble  luster  in  your  eyes.  30 

I  see  you  stand  like  greyhounds  in  the  slips, 
Straining  upon  the  start.     The  game  's  afoot : 
Follow  your  spirit,  and  upon  this  charge 
Cry    'God    for    Harry,    England,    and    Saint 

George !' 
[Exeunt.    Alarum,  and  chambers  go  off. 


Scene  II 

The  same. 
Enter  Nym,  Bardolph,  Pistol,  and  Boy. 

Bard.  On,  on,  on,  on,  on!  to  the  breach,  to  the 

breach ! 
Nym.  Pray  thee,  corporal,  stay :  the  knocks  are 

too  hot ;  and,  for  mine  own  part,  I  have  not 

a  case  of  lives:  the  humor  of  it  is  too  hot, 

that  is  the  very  plain-song  of  it. 
Pist.  The  plain-song  is  most  just;  for  humors 

do  abound: 

32,  "straining";  Howe's  emendation  of  Ff.  "Straying." — I.  G. 

3.  "corporal";  it  appears  in  a  former  scene  of  this  play  that 
Bardolph  has  been  lifted  up  from  a  corporal  into  a  lieutenant  since 
our  acquaintance  with  him  in  Henry  IV,  and  that  Nym  has  suc- 
ceeded him  in  the  former  rank.  It  is  not  quite  certain  whether  the 
Poet  forgot  the  fact  here,  or  whether  Nym,  being  used  to  call  him 
corporal,  in  his  fright  loses  his  new  title. — H.  N.  H. 

5.  "case";  that  is,  a  pair  of  lives;  as  "a  case  of  pistols,"  "a  case  of 
poniards,"  "a  case  of  masks."  So  in  Bam  Alley  we  have  "a  case 
of  justices."— H.  N.  H. 

6S 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.  THE  LIFE  OF 

Knocks  go  and  come ;  God's  vassals  drop  and  die ; 
And  sword  and  shield, 
In  bloody  field,  10 

Doth  win  immortal  fame. 
Boy.  Would  I  were  in  an  alehouse  in  London! 
I  would  give  all  my  fame  for  a  pot  of  ale 
and  safety. 
Pist.  And  I: 

If  wishes  would  prevail  with  me. 
My  purpose  should  not  fail  with  me, 
But  thither  would  I  hie. 
Boy.         As  duly,  but  not  as  truly, 

As  bird  doth  sing  on  bough.  20 

Enter  Fluellen. 

Flu.  Up  to  the  breach,  you  dogs!  avaunt,  you 

cullions!  [Driving  them  forward. 

Pist.  Be  merciful,  great  duke,  to  men  of  mould. 

Abate  thy  rage,  abate  thy  manly  rage, 

Abate  thy  rage,  great  duke ! 

Good  bawcock,  bate  thy  rage;  use  lenity,  sweet 
chuck ! 
Nym.  These  be  good  humors!  your  honor  wins 

bad  humors.  [Exeunt  all  hut  Boy. 

Boy.  As  young  as  I  am,  I  have  observed  these 

21.  "Fluellen"  is  merely  the  Welch  pronunciation  of  Lluellyn;  as 
Floyd  is  of  Lloyd.— H.  N.  H. 

21.  "Up  to  the  breach,  you  dogs!  avaunt,  you  cullions!";  so  Ff.; 
Capell  reads,  from  Qq.,  "God's  plud! — Up  to  the  preaches  you  ras- 
cals! will  you  not  up  to  the  preaches?"—!.  G. 

23.  That  is,  be  merciful,  great  commander,  to  men  of  earth,  to 
poor  mortal  men.  Duke  is  only  a  translation  of  the  Roman  dux. 
Sylvester,  in  his  Du  Bartas,  calls  Moses  "a  great  duke.'' — H.  N.  H. 

27.  "wins";  prevails  over. — C.  H.  H. 

64 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  ill.  Sc.  u. 

three  swashers.  I  am  boy  to  them  all  three :  30 
but  all  they  three,  though  they  would  serve 
me,  could  not  be  man  to  me ;  for  indeed  three 
such  antics  do  not  amount  to  a  man.  For 
Bardolph,  he  is  white-livered  and  red-faced; 
by  the  means  whereof  a'  faces  it  out,  but 
fights  not.  For  Pistol,  he  hath  a  killing 
tongue  and  a  quiet  sword;  by  the  means 
whereof  a'  breaks  words,  and  keeps  whole 
weapons.  For  Nym,  he  hath  heard  that  men 
of  few  words  are  the  best  men ;  and  therefore  40 
he  scorns  to  say  his  prayers,  lest  a'  should  be 
thought  a  coward :  but  his  few  bad  words  are 
matched  with  as  few  good  deeds :  for  a'  never 
broke  any  man's  head  but  his  own,  and  that 
was  against  a  post  when  he  was  drunk.  They 
will  steal  any  thing,  and  call  it  purchase. 
Bardolph  stole  a  lute-case,  bore  it  twelve 
leagues,  and  sold  it  for  three  half -pence. 
Nym  and  Bardolph  are  sworn  brothers  in 
filching,  and  in  Calais  they  stole  a  fire-shovel :  50 
I  knew  by  that  piece  of  service  the  men 
would  carry  coals.  They  would  have  me  as 
familiar  with  men's  pockets  as  their  gloves 
or  their  handkerchers :  which  makes  much 
against  my  manhood,  if  I  should  take  from 
another's  pocket  to  put  into  mine;  for  it  is 
plain  pocketing  up  of  wrongs.  I  must 
leave  them,   and  seek  some  better  service: 

46.  "purchase,"  which  anciently  signified  (]ain,  profit,  was  the  cant 
term  used  for  anything  obtained  by  clieating. — H.  N.  H. 

57.  "wrongs";  a  play  upon  the  two  senses:  injuries  received,  and 
injuries  done. — C.  H.  H. 

XVII— 6  65 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.  THE  LIFE  OF 

their  villany  goes  against  my  weak  stomach, 
and  therefore  I  must  cast  it  up.  lEccit.   60 

Re-enter  Fluellen,  Gower  following, 

Gow.  Captain  Fluellen,  you  must  come  pres- 
ently to  the  mines;  the  Duke  of  Gloucester 
would  speak  with  you. 

Flu.  To  the  mines !  tell  you  the  duke,  it  is  not  so 
good  to  come  to  the  mines ;  for,  look  you,  the 
mines  is  not  according  to  the  disciplines  of 
the  war :  the  concavities  of  it  is  not  sufficient ; 
for,  look  you,  th'  athversary,  you  may  dis- 
cuss unto  the  duke,  look  you,  is  digt  him- 
self four  yard  under  the  countermines:  by  '70 
Cheshu,  I  think  a'  will  plow  up  all,  if  there 
is  not  better  directions. 

Gow.  The  Duke  of  Gloucester,  to  whom  the  or- 
der of  the  siege  is  given,  is  altogether  di- 
rected by  an  Irishman,  a  very  valiant  gentle- 
man, i'  faith. 

Flu.  It  is  Captain  Macmorris,  is  it  not? 

Gow.  I  think  it  be. 

Flu.  By  Cheshu,  he  is  an  ass,  as  in  the  world :  I 
will  verify  as  much  in  his  beard:  he  has  no 
more  directions  in  the  true  disciplines  of  the 
wars,  look  you,  of  the  Roman  disciplines, 
than  is  a  puppy-dog. 

Enter  Macmorris  and  Captain  Jamy. 

Gow.  Here  a'  comes;  and  the  Scots  captain. 
Captain  Jamy,  with  him. 

69.  "i*   difft  himself  four  yard  under  the   countermines";  that  is 
the  enemy  has  digged  four  yards  under  the  countermines. — H.  N.  H 

66 


80 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  III.  Sc.  ii. 

Flu.  Captain  Jamy  is  a  marvelous  falorous 
gentleman,  that  is  certain;  and  of  great  ex- 
pedition and  knowledge  in  the'  aunchient 
wars,  upon  my  particular  knowledge  of  his 
directions:  by  Cheshu,  he  will  maintain  his  90 
argument  as  well  as  any  military  man  in  the 
world,  in  the  disciplines  of  the  pristine  wars 
of  the  Romans. 

Jamy.  I  say  gud-day,  Captain  Fluellen. 

Flu.  God-den  to  your  worship,  good  Captain 
James. 

Gow.  How  now,  Captain  Macmorris!  have  you 
quit  the  mines?  have  the  pioners  given  o'er? 

Mac.  By  Chrish,  la  I  tish  ill  done:  the  work  ish 
give  over,  the  trompet  sound  the  retreat.  100 
By  my  hand,  I  swear,  and  my  father's  soul, 
the  work  ish  ill  done ;  it  ish  give  over :  I  would 
have  blowed  up  the  town,  so  Chrish  save  me, 
la!  in  an  hour:  O,  tish  ill  done,  tish  ill  done; 
by  my  hand,  tish  ill  done ! 

Flu.  Captain  Macmorris,  I  beseech  you  now, 
will  you  voiltsafe  me,  look  you,  a  few  dispu- 
tations with  you,  as  partly  touching  or  con- 
cerning the  disciplines  of  the  war,  the  Ro- 
man wars,  in  the  way  of  argument,  look  you,  HO 
and  friendly  communication ;  partly  to  satis- 
fy my  opinion,  and  partly  for  the  satisfac- 
tion, look  you,  of  my  mind,  as  touching  the 
direction  of  the  military  discipline;  that  is 
the  point. 

Jamy.  It  sail  be  vary  gud,  gud  feith,  gud  cap- 

67 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.  THE  LIFE  OF 

tains  bath :  and  I  sail  quit  you  with  gud  leve, 
as  I  may  pick  occasion ;  that  sail  I,  marry. 

Mac,  It  is  no  time  to  discourse,  so  Chrish  save 
me :  the  day  is  hot,  and  the  weather,  and  the  120 
wars,  and  the  king,  and  the  dukes:  it  is  no 
time  to  discourse.  The  town  is  beseeched, 
and  the  trumpet  call  us  to  the  breach ;  and  we 
talk,  and,  be  Chrish,  do  nothing:  'tis  shame 
for  us  all :  so  God  sa'  me,  'tis  shame  to  stand 
still:  it  is  shame,  by  my  hand:  and  there  is 
throats  to  be  cut,  and  works  to  be  done ;  and 
there  ish  nothing  done,  so  Chrish  sa'  me,  la ! 

Jamy.  By  the  mass,  ere  theise  eyes  of  mine 
take  themselves  to  slomber,  ay  '11  de  gud  130 
service,  or  ay  '11  lig  i'  the  grund  for  it;  aye, 
or  go  to  death ;  and  ay  '11  pay  't  as  valor- 
ously  as  I  may,  that  sail  I  suerly  do,  that  is 
the  breff  and  the  long.  Marry,  I  wad  full 
fain  hear  some  question  'tween  you  tway. 

Flu.  Captain  Macmorris,  I  think,  look  you,  un- 
der your  correction,  there  is  not  many  of 
your  nation — 

Mac.  Of  my  nation!     What  ish   my  nation? 
Ish  a  villain,  and  a  bastard,  and  a  knave,  and  140 
a  rascal.     What  ish  my  nation?     Who  talks 
of  my  nation  ? 

Flu.  Look  you,  if  you  take  the  matter  otherwise 

117.  "quit";  I  shall,  with  your  permission,  requite  you;  that  is, 
answer  you,  or  interpose  with  my  arguments,  as  I  shall  find  oppor- 
tunity.—H.  N.  H. 

134.  "wad  full  fain  heard";  wad  .  .  .  have  heard.  The  omis- 
sion of  "have"  is  a  common  Northern  and  Scandinavian  idiom.  So 
Ff.    The  Camb.  editors  wrongly  alter  to  "hear."— C.  H.  H. 

68 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  ill.  Sc.  m. 

than  is  meant,  Captain  Macmorris,  perad- 
venture  I  shall  think  you  do  not  use  me  with 
that  affability  as  in  discretion  you  ought  to 
use  me,  look  you;  being  as  good  a  man  as 
yourself,  both  in  the  disciplines  of  war,  and 
in  the  derivation  of  my  birth,  and  in  other 
particularities.  150 

Mac.  I  do  not  know  you  so  good  a  man  as  my- 
self: so  Chrish  save  me,  I  will  cut  off  your 
head. 

Gow.  Gentlemen  both,  you  will  mistake  each 
other. 

J  amy.  A!  that 's  a  foul  fault. 

\^A  'parley  sounded. 

Gow.  The  town  sounds  a  parley. 

Flu.  Captain  Macmorris,  w^hen  there  is  more 
better  opportunity  to  be  required,  look  you, 
I  will  be  so  bold  as  to  tell  you  I  know  the 
disciplines  of  war;  and  there  is  an  end.  160 

[Exeunt. 

Scene  HI 

The  same.     Before  the  gates. 

The  Governor  and  some  citizens  on  the  walls;  the 

English  forces  below.    Enter  King  Henry  and 

his  train. 

» 
K.  Hen.  How  yet  resolves  the  governor  of  the 

town? 
This  is  the  latest  parle  we  will  admit : 
Therefore  to  our  best  mercy  give  yourselves; 
69 


Act  III.  Sc.  iii.  THE  LIFE  OF 

Or  like  to  men  proud  of  destruction 
Defy  us  to  our  worst :  for,  as  I  am  a  soldier, 
A  name  that  in  my  thoughts  becomes  me  best. 
If  I  begin  the  battery  once  again, 
I  will  not  leave  the  half -achieved  Harfleur 
Till  in  her  ashes  she  lie  buried. 
The  gates  of  mercy  shall  be  all  shut  up,  10 

And  the  flesh'd  soldier,  rough  and  hard  of  heart, 
In  liberty  of  bloody  hand  shall  range 
With  conscience  wide  as  hell,  mowing  like  grass 
Your  fresh- fair  virgins  and  your  flowering  in- 
fants. 
What  is  it  then  to  me,  if  impious  war, 
Array'd  in  flames  like  to  the  prince  of  fiends, 
Do  with  his  smirch'd  complexion,  all  fell  feats 
Enlink'd  to  waste  and  desolation? 
What  is  't  to  me,  when  you  yourselves  are  cause, 
If  your  pure  maidens  fall  into  the  hand  20 

Of  hot  and  forcing  violation? 
What  rein  can  hold  licentious  wickedness 
When  down  the  hill  he  holds  his  fierce  career? 
We  may  as  bootless  spend  our  vain  command 
Upon  the  enraged  soldiers  in  their  spoil 
As  send  precepts  to  the  leviathan 
To  come  ashore.     Therefore,  you  men  of  Har- 
fleur, 
Take  pity  of  your  town  and  of  your  people. 
Whiles  yet  my  soldiers  are  in  my  command ; 

10.  Lord  Bacon,  in  a  letter  to  king  James,  written  a  few  days 
after  the  death  of  Shakespeare,  says, — "And  therefore  in  con- 
clusion we  wished  him  not  to  shut  the  gate  of  your  majesty's  mercy 
against  himself  by  being  obdurate."  He  is  speaking  of  the  earl 
of  Somerset.— H.  N.  H. 

70 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  iii.  Sc.  m. 

Whiles  yet  the  cool  and  temperate  wind  of  grace 
O'erblows  the  filthy  and  contagious  clouds      31 
Of  heady  murder,  spoil  and  villany. 
If  not,  why,  in  a  moment  look  to  see 
The  blind  and  bloody  soldier  with  foul  hand 
Defile  the  locks  of  your  shrill-shrieking  daugh- 
ters; 
Your  fathers  taken  by  the  silver  beards. 
And  their  most  reverend  heads  dash'd  to  the 

walls. 
Your  naked  infants  spitted  upon  pikes. 
Whiles  the  mad  mothers  with  their  howls  con- 
fused 
Do  break  the  clouds,  as  did  the  wives  of  Jewry 
At  Herod's  bloody-hunting  slaughtermen.     41 
What  say  you  ?  will  you  yield,  and  this  avoid. 
Or,  guilty  in  defense,  be  thus  destroy'd? 
Gov,  Our  expectation  hath  this  day  an  end : 

The  Dauphin,  whom  of  succors  we  entreated, 
Returns  us  that  his  powers  are  yet  not  ready 
To  raise  so  great  a  siege.     Therefore,   great 

king, 
We  yield  our  town  and  lives  to  thy  soft  mercy. 
Enter  our  gates ;  dispose  of  us  and  ours ; 
For  we  no  longer  are  defensible.  50 

K.  Hen.  Open  your  gates.     Come,  uncle  Exeter, 
Go  you  and  enter  Harfleur ;  there  remain. 
And  fortify  it  strongly  'gainst  the  French: 
Use  mercy  to  them  all.     For  us,  dear  uncle, 
The  winter  coming  on,  and  sickness  growing 
Upon  our  soldiers,  we  will  retire  to  Calais. 

31.  To  "overblow"  is  to  drive  away,  to  kee'p  of. — H.  N.  H. 

71 


Act  III.  Sc.  iv.  THE  LIFE  OF 

To-night  in  Harfleur  will  we  be  your  guest; 
To-morrow  for  the  march  are  we  addrest. 

[Flourish.     The  King  and  his  train  enter 

the  town. 


Scene  IV 

The  French  King's  palace. 
Enter  Katharine  and  Alice. 

Kath.  Alice,  tu  as  ete  en  Angleterre,  et  tu  paries 

bien  le  langage. 
Alice.  Un  peu,  madame. 
Kath.  Je  te  prie,  m'enseignez;  il  faut  que  j'ap- 

prenne  a  parler.     Comment  appelez-vous  la 

main  en  Anglois? 

Scene  4.  Touching  this  scene  various  grounds  have  been  taken, 
some  pronouncing  it  ridiculous,  others  rejecting  it  as  an  interpola- 
tion, and  others  wondering  that  Katharine  and  Alice  should  be  made 
to  speak  French,  when  the  other  French  characters  talk  English. 
We  cannot  well  see  why  anything  better  should  be  asked  than  Dr. 
Johnson's  remarks  on  the  subject:  "The  grimaces  of  the  two 
Frenchwomen,  and  the  odd  accent  with  which  they  uttered  the 
English,  might  divert  an  audience  more  refined  than  could  be 
found  in  the  Poet's  time.  There  is  in  it  not  only  the  French  lan- 
guage, but  the  French  spirit.  Alice  compliments  the  princess  upon 
the  knowledge  of  four  words,  and  tells  her  that  she  pronounces 
like  the  English  themselves.  The  princess  suspects  no  deficiency 
in  her  instructress,  nor  the  instructress  in  herself.  The  extraordi- 
nary circumstance  of  introducing  a  character  speaking  French  in 
an  English  drama  was  no  novelty  to  our  early  stage." — H.  N.  H. 

Successive  editors  have  substituted  approximately  correct  modern 
French  for  the  imperfect  and  corrupted  French  of  the  Folio  text. 
Probably  what  Shakespeare  wrote  was  less  correct  than  what  we 
read;  but  in  the  absence  of  any  criteria  of  his  French  scholarship, 
it  is  hardly  worth  while  to  insist  on  a  few  cases  in  which  the  incor- 
rectness of  the  Folio  version  cannot  be  due  to  mere  corruption. — 
C.  H.  H. 

72 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  III.  Sc.  iv. 

Alice.  La  main?  elle  est  appelee  de  hand. 

Kath.  De  hand.     Et  les  doigts? 

Alice.  Les  doigts?  ma  foi,  j'oubhe  les  doigts; 

mais   je   ne   souviendrai.     Les    doigts?    je   10 

pense  qu'ils  sont  appeles  de  fingres;  oui,  de 

fingres. 
Kath.  La  main,  de  hand;  les  doigts,  de  fingres 

Je  pense  que  je  suis  le  bon  ecolier;  j'ai 

gagne     deux     mots    d'Anglois     vitement. 

Comment  appelez-vous  les  ongles? 
Alice.  Les  ongles?  nous  les  appelons  de  nails. 
Kath.  De  nails.     Ecoutez;  dites-moi,  si  je  parle 

bien :  de  hand,  de  fingres,  et  de  nails. 
Alice.  C'est  bien  dit,  madame;  il  est  fort  bon   20 

Anglois. 
Kath.  Dites-moi  1' Anglois  pour  le  bras. 
Alice.  De  arm,  madame. 
Kath.  Et  le  coude. 
Alice.  De  elbow. 
Kath.  De  elbow.     Je  m'en  fais  la  repetition  de 

tous  les  mots  que  vous  m'avez  appris  des  a 

present. 
Alice.  II  est  trop  difficile,  madame,  comme  je 

pense.  30 

Kath.  Excusez-moi,  Alice ;  ecoutez :  de  hand,  de 

fingres,  de  nails,  de  arma,  de  bilbow. 
Alice.  De  elbow,  madame. 
Kath.  O  Seigneur  Dieu,  je  m'en  oublie!  de  el- 
bow.    Comment  appelez-vous  le  col? 
Alice.  De  neck,  madame. 
Kath.  De  nick.     Et  le  menton? 
Alice.  De  chin. 

73 


Act  III.  Sc.  iv.  THE  LIFE  OF 


40 


Kath.  De  sin.  Le  col,  de  nick;  le  menton,  de 
sin. 

Alice.  Oui.  Sauf  votre  honneur,  en  verite, 
vous  prononcez  les  mots  aussi  droit  que  les 
natif  s  d'Angleterre. 

Kath,  Je  ne  doute  point  d'apprendre,  par  la 
grace  de  Dieu,  et  en  peu  de  temps. 

Alice.  N'avez  vous  pas  deja  oublie  ce  que  je 
vous  ai  enseigne? 

Kath.  Non,  je  reciterai  a  vous  promptement:  de 
hand,  de  fingres,  de  mails, — 

Alice.  De  nails,  madame.  50 

Kath.  De  nails,  de  arm,  de  ilbow. 

Alice.  Sauf  votre  honneur,  de  elbow. 

Kath.  Ainsi  dis-je;  de  elbow,  de  nick,  et  de  sin. 
Comment  appelez-vous  le  pied  et  la  robe  ? 

Alice,  De  foot,  madame;  et  de  coun. 

Kath.  De  foot  et  de  coun!  O  Seigneur  Dieul 
ce  sont  mots  de  son  mauvais,  corruptible, 
gros,  et  impudique,  et  non  pour  les  dames 
d'honneur  d'user:  je  ne  voudrais  prononcer 
ces  mots  devant  les  seigneurs  de  France  pour 
tout  le  monde.  Fob!  le  foot  et  le  count 
Neanmoins,  je  reciterai  une  autre  fois  ma  le- 
9on  ensemble:  de  hand,  de  fingres,  de  nails, 
de  arm,  de  elbow,  de  nick,  de  sin,  de  foot,  de 
coun. 

Alice.  Excellent,  madame  I 

Kath.  C'est  assez  pour  une  fois;  allons-nous  a 
diner.  [Exeunt. 


74 


60 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  III.  Sc.  v. 


Scene  V 

The  same. 

Enter  the  King  of  France,  the  Dauphin,  the  Duke 
of  Bourbon,  the  Constable  of  France,  and 
others. 

Fr.  King.  'Tis  certain  he  hath  pass'd  the  river 
Somme. 

Con.  And  if  he  be  not  fought  withal,  my  lord, 
Let  us  not  Hve  in  France ;  let  us  quit  all, 
And  give  our  vineyards  to  a  barbarous  people 

Dau.  O  Dieu  vivant!  shall  a  few  sprays  of  us, 
The  emptying  of  our  fathers'  luxury, 
Our  scions,  put  in  wild  and  savage  stock, 
Spirt  up  so  suddenly  into  the  clouds, 
And  overlook  their  grafters? 

Bour,  Normans,  but  bastard  Normans,  Norman 
bastards !  10 

Mort  de  ma  vie !  if  they  march  along 
Unf  ought  withal,  but  I  will  sell  my  dukedom. 
To  buy  a  slobbery  and  a  dirty  farm 
In  that  nook-shotten  isle  of  Albion. 

5.  "a  few  sprays  of  us";  i.  e.  the  French  who  "came  over  with  the 
Conqueror,"  himself  a  bastard. — C.  H.  H. 

11.  "vie";  the  final  ("mute")  e  of  French  still  had  a  syllabic 
value  in  ordinary  pronunciation,  as  it  still  has  in  verse.  Similarly 
"batailles"  below.— C.  H.  H. 

14.  "nook-shotten";  probably  "full  of  sharp  angles  and  corners," 
i,  e.  invaded  on  all  sides  by  estuaries  and  inlets  of  the  sea,  so  as 
to  be  naturally  watery  and  "slobbery."  This  is  a  well-attested  mean- 
ing of  "nook-shotten"  in  dialects;  hence  this  interpretation  is  sounder 
than  Knight's  and  Staunton's  "spawned  or  shot  into  a  nook,"  though 
this  gives  a  vigorous  sense.    The  Dauphin's  point,  moreover,  is  not 

75 


Act  III.  Sc.  V.  THE  LIFE  OF 

Con.  Dieu  de  batailles !  where  have  they  this  mettle? 
Is  not  their  eUmate  foggy,  raw  and  dull, 
On  whom,  as  in  despite,  the  sun  looks  pale, 
Killing  their  fruit  with  frowns?     Can  sodden 

water, 
A   drench  for   sur-rein'd  jades,   their  barley- 
broth. 
Decoct  their  cold  blood  to  such  valiant  heat?    20 
And  shall  our  quick  blood,  spirited  with  wine, 
Seem  frosty?     O,  for  honor  of  our  land, 
Let  us  not  hang  like  roping  icicles 
Upon  our  houses'  thatch,  whiles  a  more  frosty 

people 
Sweat    drops    of   gallant   youth    in    our    rich 

fields!— 
Poor  we  may  call  them  in  their  native  lords. 
Dau.  By  faith  and  honor. 

Our  madams  mock  at  us,  and  plainly  say 
Our  mettle  is  bred  out,  and  they  will  give 
Their  bodies  to  the  lust  of  English  youth,      30 
To  new-store  France  with  bastard  warriors. 
Bour.  They  bid  us  to  the  English  dancing-schools. 
And  teach  lavoltas  high  and  smft  corantos; 
Saying  our  grace  is  only  in  our  heels, 

that  England  is  remote,  but  that  it  is  wet  and  uncomfortable  to  live 
in.  "Nook-shotten"  aptly  contrasts  England  with  the  compact,  four- 
square contour  of  France. — C.  H.  H. 

19,  "sur-rein'd"  is  probably  over-ridden  or  over-strained.  Steevens 
observes  that  it  is  common  to  give  horses,  over-ridden  or  feverish, 
ground  malt  and  hot  water  mixed,  which  is  called  a  mash.  To  this 
the  constable  alludes. — H.  N.  H. 

26.  "in  their  native  lords";  in  respect  of  the  poor  show  which  their 
owners  make  compared  with  the  English. — C.  H.  H. 

33.  The  "lavolla"  was  a  dance  of  Italian  origin,  and  seems  to  have 
been  something  like  the  modern  waltz,  only,  perhaps,  rather  more 

76 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  III.  Sc.  v. 

And  that  we  are  most  lofty  runaways. 
Fr.  King.  Where  is  Mont  joy  the  herald?  speed 

him  hence: 
Let  him  greet  England  with  our  sharp  defiance. 
Up,  princes !  and,  with  spirit  of  honor  edged 
More  sharper  than  your  swords,  hie  to  the  field . 
Charles  Delabreth,  high  constable  of  France; 
You  Dukes  of  Orleans,  Bourbon,  and  of  Berri. 
Alen^on,  Brabant,  Bar,  and  Burgundy;  42 

Jaques  Chatillon,  Rambures,  Vaudemont, 
Beaumont,  Grandpre,  Roussi,  and  Fauconberg, 
Foix,  Lestrale,  Bouciqualt,  and  Charolois; 
High  dukes,  great  princes,  barons,  lords  and 

knights. 
For  your  great  seats  now  quit  you  of  great 

shames. 
Bar  Harry  England,  that  sweeps  through  our 

land 

so.     It  is   thus   described   by   Sir  John   Davies   in  his   poem   called 
Orchestra,  quoted  once  before: 

"A  lofty  jumping,  or  a  leaping  round, 
Where  arm  in  arm  two  dancers  are  entwin'd. 
And  whirl  themselves  with  strict  embracements  bound, 
And  still  their  feet  an  anapest  do  sound. 
An  anapest  is  all  their  music's  song, 
Whose  first  two  feet  are  short,  and  third  is  long." 

— H.  N.  H. 
40.  "Charles  Delabreth";  this  should  be  Charles  D'Albret;  but  the 
meter  would  not  admit  of  the  change.     Shakespeare  followed  Holin- 
shed,  who  calls  him  Delabreth. — H.  N.  H. 

44.  "Fauconberg";  anglicized  by  Ff.  to  "Falconbridge."  In  the 
next  line  Ff.  read  "Loys"  for  "Foix."  Both  forms  were  restored 
from  Holinshed.— C.  H.  H. 

46.  "Knights";  Theobald's  emendation  of  Ff.  "Kings."— I.  G. 

47.  "seats";  signorial  castles. — C.  H.  H. 

48.  "England";  Henry's  title  as  king,  as  in  v.  37  and  elsewhere. — 
C.  H.  H. 

77 


Act  III.  Sc.  V.  THE  LIFE  OF 

With  pennons  painted  in  the  blood  of  Harfleur : 
Rush  on  his  host,  as  doth  the  melted  snow      50 
Upon  the  valleys,  whose  low  vassal  seat 
The  Alps  doth  spit  and  void  his  rheum  upon : 
Go  down  upon  him,  you  have  power  enough, 
And  in  a  captive  chariot  into  Rouen 
Bring  him  our  prisoner. 

Con.  This  becomes  the  great. 

Sorry  am  I  his  numbers  are  so  few, 
His  soldiers  sick  and  f  amish'd  in  their  march, 
For  I  am  sure,  when  he  shall  see  our  army, 
He  '11  drop  his  heart  into  the  sink  of  fear 
And  for  achievement  offer  us  his  ransom.       60 

jFr.  King.  Therefore,    lord    constable,    haste    on 
Mont  joy, 
And  let  him  say  to  England  that  we  send 
To  know  what  willing  ransom  he  will  give. 
Prince  Dauphin,   you   shall   stay   with   us   in 
Rouen. 

Dau,  Not  so,  I  do  beseech  your  majesty. 

Fr.  King.  Be  patient,  for  you  shall  remain  with  us. 
Now  forth,  lord  constable  and  princes  all. 
And  quickly  bring  us  word  of  England's  fall. 

[EiVeunt, 

54.  "Bouen";  Malone's  emendation  of  "Bone,"  Qq.;  "Boan,"  Yt.— 
I.  G. 

60.  "for";  instead  of.— C.  H.  H. 

63.  That  is,  instead  of  achieving  a  victory  over  us,  make  a  pro- 
posal to  pay  us  a  sum  as  ransom. — H.  N.  H. 


78 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  iii.  Sc  vi. 


Scene  VI 

The  English  camp  in  Picardy. 
Enter  Gower  and  Fluellen,  meeting, 

Gow.  How  now,  Captain  Fluellenl  come  you 
from  the  bridge? 

Flu.  I  assure  you,  there  is  very  excellent  serv- 
ices committed  at  the  bridge. 

Gow,  Is  the  Duke  of  Exeter  safe? 

Flu,  The  Duke  of  Exeter  is  as  magnanimous 
as  Agamemnon;  and  a  man  that  I  love  and 
honor  with  my  soul,  and  my  heart,  and  my 
duty,  and  my  life,  and  my  living,  and  my 
uttermost  power :  he  is  not — God  be  praised  10 
and  blessed! — any  hurt  in  the  world;  but 
keeps  the  bridge  most  valiantly,  with  excel- 
lent discipline.  There  is  an  aunchient  lieu- 
tenant there  at  the  pridge,  I  think  in  my  very 
conscience  he  is  as  valiant  a  man  as  Mark 
Antony ;  and  he  is  a  man  of  no  estimation  in 
the  world;  but  I  did  see  him  do  as  gallant 
service. 

Gow.  What  do  you  call  him? 

11.  "but  keeps  the  bridge";  after  Henry  had  passed  the  Somme 
the  French  endeavored  to  intercept  him  in  his  passage  to  Calais; 
and  for  that  purpose  attempted  to  break  down  the  only  bridge  that 
there  was  over  the  small  river  of  Ternois,  at  Blangi,  over  which 
it  was  necessary  for  Henry  to  pass.  But  Henry,  having  notice  of 
their  design,  sent  a  part  of  his  troops  before  him,  who,  attacking 
and  putting  the  French  to  flight,  preserved  the  bridge  till  the  whole 
English  army  arrived  and  passed  over  It. — H.  N.  H. 

79 


Act  III.  Sc.  vi.  THE  LIFE  OF 

Flu,  He  is  called  Aunchient  Pistol.  20 

Gow.  I  know  him  not. 

Enter  Pistol, 

Flu.  Here  is  the  man. 

Pist.  Captain,  I  thee  beseech  to  do  me  favors: 
The  Duke  of  Exeter  doth  love  thee  well. 

Flu.  Aye,  I  praise  God;  and  I  have  merited 
some  love  at  liis  hands. 

Pist.  Bardolph,  a  soldier,  firm  and  sound  of  heart, 
And  of  buxom  valor,  hath,  by  cruel  fate. 
And  giddy  Fortune's  furious  fickle  wheel. 
That  goddess  blind,  30 

That  stands  upon  the  rolling  restless  stone- 

Flu.  By  your  patience,  Aunchient  Pistol. 
Fortune  is  painted  blind,  with  a  muffler 
afore  her  eyes,  to  signify  to  you  that  For- 
tune is  blind;  and  she  is  painted  also  with  a 
wheel,  to  signify  to  you,  which  is  the  moral 
of  it,  that  she  is  turning,  and  inconstant, 
and  mutability,  and  variation :  and  her  foot, 
look  you,  is  fixed  upon  a  spherical  stone, 
which  rolls,  and  rolls,  and  rolls:  in  good  40 
truth,  the  poet  makes  a  most  excellent  de- 

28.  "buxom";  in  the  Saxon  and  our  elder  English,  buxom  meant 
pliant,  yielding,  obedient;  but  it  was  also  used  for  lusty,  rampant. 
Pistol  would  be  more  likely  to  take  the  popular  sense  than  one 
founded  on  etymology.  Blount,  after  giving  the  old  legitimate  mean- 
ing of  buxomness,  says,  "It  is  now  mistaken  for  lustiness  or  ram- 
pancy." — H.  N.  H. 

29-31.  "And  giddy  Fortune's  furious  fickle  wheel,"  &c.;  cp.  "For- 
tune is  blind  .  .  .  whose  foot  is  standing  on  a  rolling  stone," 
Kyd's  Spanish  Tragedy.— I.  G. 

34.  "Fortune  is  painted  blind";  Warburton  proposed  the  omission 
of  blind,  which  may  have  been  caught  up  from  the  next  line. — I,  G. 

80 


KING  HENRY  Y  Act  ill.  Sc.  vi 

scription    of   it:    Fortune   is    an    excellent 
moral. 

Pist.  Fortune  is  Bardolph's  foe,  and  frowns  on 
him; 
For  he  hath  stolen  a  pax,  and  hanged  must  a' 

be: 
A  damned  death! 

Let  gallows  gape  for  dog;  let  man  go  free 
And  let  not  hemp  his  wind-pipe  suffocate: 
But  Exeter  hath  given  the  doom  of  death 
For  pax  of  little  price.  50 

Therefore,  go  speak;  the  duke  will  hear  thy 

voice ; 
And  let  not  Bardolph's  vital  thread  be  cut 
With  edge  of  penny  cord  and  vile  reproach: 
Speak,  captain,  for  his  life,  and  I  will  thee  re- 
quite. 

Flu.  Aunchient  Pistol,  I  do  partly  understand 
your  meaning. 

Pist.  Why  then,  rejoice  therefore. 

Flu.  Certainly,  aunchient,  it  is  not  a  thing  to 
rejoice  at:  for  if,  look  you,  he  were  my 
brother,  I  would  desire  the  duke  to  use  his   60 
good  pleasure,  and  put  him  to  execution ;  for 
discipline  ought  to  be  used. 

Pist.  Die  and  be  damn'dl  and  figo  for  thy 
friendship ! 

Flu.  It  is  well. 

Pist.  The  fig  of  Spain  I  [Eant. 

Flu.  Yery  good. 

44.  "Fortune  is  Bardolph's  foe";  a  reference  to  the  old   ballad, 
"Fortune,  my  foe!" — I.  G. 

XVII— 6  81 


Act  III.  Sc.  vi.  THE  LIFE  OF 

Gow.  Why,  this  is  an  arrant  counterfeit  rascal; 
I  remember  him  now;  a  bawd,  a  cutpurse. 

Flu,  I  '11  assure  you,  a'  uttered  as  prave  words   70 
at  the  pridge  as  you  shall  see  in  a  summer's 
day.     But  it  is  very  well ;  what  he  has  spoke 
to  me,  that  is  well,  I  warrant  you,  when  time 
is  serve. 

Gow.  Why,  'tis  a  gull,  a  fool,  a  rogue,  that  now 
and  then  goes  to  the  wars,  to  grace  himself 
at  his  return  into  London  under  the  form 
of  a  soldier.  And  such  fellows  are  perfect 
in  the  great  commanders'  names:  and  they 
will  learn  you  by  rote  where  services  were  80 
done;  at  such  and  such  a  sconce,  at  such  a 
breach,  at  such  a  convoy;  who  came  off 
bravely,  who  was  shot,  who  disgraced,  what 
terms  the  enemy  stood  on ;  and  this  they  con 
perfectly  in  the  phrase  of  war,  which  they 
trick  up  with  new-tuned  oaths:  and  what  a 
beard  of  the  general's  cut  and  a  horrid  suit 
of  the  camp  will  do  among  foaming  bot- 
tles and  ale-washed  wits,  is  wonderful  to  be 
thought  on.     But  you  must  learn  to  know   90 

81.  A  "sconce"  was  a  blockhouse  or  chief  fortress,  for  the  most 
part  round  in  fashion  of  a  head;  hence  the  head  is  ludicrously  called 
a  sconce;  a  lantern  was  also  called  a  sconce,  because  of  its  round 
form.— H.  N.  H. 

86.  "new-tuned";  Pope  reads  "new-turned" ;  Collier  MS.,  "new- 
coined";  Grant  White,  "new-found" — I.  G. 

87.  "general's  cut";  our  ancestors  were  very  curious  in  the  fashion 
of  their  beards;  a  certain  cut  was  appropriated  to  certain  profes- 
sions and  ranks.  The  spade  beard  and  the  stiletto  beard  appear  to 
have  been  appropriated  to  the  soldier. — H.  N.  H. 

90-92.  "But  you"  etc.;  nothing  was  more  common  than  such  huff- 
cap  pretending  braggarts  as  Pistol  in  the  Poet's  age;  they  are  the 
continual  subject  of  satire  to  his  contemporaries. — H.  N.  H. 

32 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  ill.  Sc.  vi. 

such  slanders  of  the  age,  or  else  you  may  be 
marvelously  mistook. 
Flu.  I  tell  you  what,  Captain  Gower ;  I  do  per- 
ceive he  is  not  the  man  that  he  would  gladly 
make  show  to  the  world  he  is :  if  I  find  a  hole 
in  his  coat,  I  will  tell  him  my  mind.  [Drum 
heard.l  Hark  you,  the  king  is  coming,  and 
I  must  speak  with  him  from  the  pridge. 

Drum  and  Colors.    Enter  King  Henry,  Glouces- 
ter and  Soldiers, 

God  pless  your  majesty! 

K.  Hen.  How  now,  Fluellen!  camest  thou  from 
the  bridge?  100 

Flu.  Aye,  so  please  your  majesty.  The  Duke 
of  Exeter  has  very  gallantly  maintained  the 
pridge:  the  French  is  gone  off,  look  you; 
and  there  is  gallant  and  most  prave  pass- 
ages: marry,  th'  athversary  was  have  pos- 
session of  the  pridge;  but  he  is  enforced  to 
retire,  and  the  Duke  of  Exeter  is  master  of 
the  pridge:  I  can  tell  your  majesty,  the 
duke  is  a  prave  man. 

K.  Hen.  What  men  have  you  lost,  Fluellen?  HO 

Flu,  The  perdition  of  th'  athversary  hath  been 
very  great,  reasonable  great :  marry,  for  my 
part,  I  think  the  duke  hath  lost  never  a  man, 
but  one  that  is  like  to  be  executed  for  robbing 
a  church,  one  Bardolph,  if  your  majesty 
know  the  man:  his  face  is  all  bubukles,  and 
whelks,  and  knobs,  and  flames  o'  fire:  and 

98.  That  is,  I  must  tell  him  what  was  done  at  the  bridge. — H.  N.  H. 

83 


Act  III.  Sc.  vi.  THE  LIFE  OF 

his  lips  blows  at  his  nose,  and  it  is  like  a  coal 
of  fire,  sometimes  plue  and  sometimes  red; 
but  his  nose  is  executed,  and  his  fire  's  out.  120 
K.  Hen.  We  would  have  all  such  offenders  so 
cut  off :  ^nd  we  give  express  charge,  that  in 
our  marches  through  the  country,  there  be 
nothing  compelled  from  the  villages,  noth-  . 
ing  taken  but  paid  for,  none  of  the  French 
upbraided  or  abused  in  disdainful  language ; 
for  when  lenity  and  cruelty  play  for  a  king- 
dom, the  gentler  gamester  is  the  soonest 
winner. 

Tucket.     Enter  Mont  joy. 

Mont.  You  know  me  by  my  habit.  130 

K.  Hen.  Well  then  I  know  thee:  what  shall  I 
know  of  thee? 

Mont.  My  master's  mind. 

K.  Hen.  Unfold  it. 

Mont.  Thus  says  my  king :  Say  thou  to  Harry 
of  England:  Though  we  seemed  dead,  we 
did  but  sleep:  advantage  is  a  better  soldier 
than  rashness.  Tell  him  we  could  have  re- 
buked him  at  Harfleur,  but  that  we  thought 
not  good  to  bruise  an  injury  till  it  were  full  140 

116-120.  Fluellen's  description  of  Bardolph  forcibly  recalls 
Chaucer's  Sompnour  in  the  Prologue  to  the  Canterbury  Tales  (Qq.» 
"whelkes,  and  knubs,  and  pumples"  for  "bubukles,  and  whelks,  and 
knobs"). — I.  G. 

127-129.  These  lines  appear  to  convey  a  pointed  allusion  to  Essex's 
campaign  in  Ireland,  and  are  in  any  case  significant  of  Shakespeare's 
judgment  upon  the  harsh  policy  commonly  pursued  there. — C.  H.  H. 

"lenity,"  Rowe's  emendation  from  Qq. ;  Ff.,  "Levity." — I.  G. 

130.  "habit";  i.  e.  sleeveless  coat,  the  herald's  tabard. — I.  G. 

141.  "upon  our  cue";  that  is,  in  our  turn. — H.  N.  H. 

84 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  III.  Sc.  vi. 

ripe:  now  we  speak  upon  our  cue,  and  our 
voice  is  imperial:  England  shall  repent  his 
folly,  see  his  weakness,  and  adniire  our  suf- 
ferance. Bid  him  therefore  consider  of  his 
ransom ;  which  must  proportion  the  losses  we 
have  borne,  the  subjects  we  have  lost,  the 
disgrace  we  have  digested;  which  in  weight 
to  re-answer,  his  pettiness  would  bow  under. 
For  our  losses,  his  exchequer  is  too  poor;  for 
the  effusion  of  our  blood,  the  muster  of  his  150 
kingdom  too  faint  a  number;  and  for  our 
disgrace,  his  own  person,  kneeling  at  our 
feet,  but  a  weak  and  worthless  satisfaction. 
To  this  add  defiance:  and  tell  him,  for  con- 
clusion, he  hath  betrayed  his  followers,  whose 
condemnation  is  pronounced.  So  far  my 
king  and  master ;  so  much  my  office. 
K,  Hen.  What   is   thy   name?     I   know   thy 

quality. 
Mont.  Mont  joy.  160 

K.  Hen.  Thou  dost  thy  office  fairly.     Turn  thee 
back. 
And  tell  thy  king  I  do  not  seek  him  now; 
But  could  be  willing  to  march  on  to  Calais 
Without  impeachment:  for,  to  say  the  sooth, 
Though  'tis  no  wisdom  to  confess  so  much 
Unto  an  enemy  of  craft  and  vantage, 
My  people  are  with  sickness  much  enfeebled, 
My  numbers  lessen'd,  and  those  few  I  have 

147.  "in  weight  to  re-answer";  to  repay  in  full  measure. — C.  H.  H. 
166.  "of  craft  and  vantage";  who  has  both  a  natural  superiority 
and  the  cunning  to  make  the  best  of  it. — C.  H.  H. 

85 


Act  III.  Sc.  vi.  THE  LIFE  OF 

Almost  no  better  than  so  many  French; 
Who  when  they  were  in  health,   I  tell  thee, 

herald,  170 

I  thought  upon  one  pair  of  Enghsh  legs 
Did   march   three   Frenchmen.     Yet,    forgive 

me,  God, 
That  I  do  brag  thus !     This  your  air  of  France 
Hath  blown  that  vice  in  me ;  I  must  repent. 
Go  therefore,  tell  thy  master  here  I  am; 
My  ransom  is  this  frail  and  worthless  trunk, 
My  army  but  a  weak  and  sickly  guard; 
Yet,  God  before,  tell  him  we  will  come  on. 
Though    France    himself    and    such    another 

neighbor 
Stand   in   our  way.     There 's    for   thy   labor, 

Mont  joy.  180 

Go,  bid  thy  master  well  advise  himself: 
If  we  may  pass,  we  will;  if  we  be  hinder'd. 
We  shall  your  tawny  ground  with  your  red 

blood 
Discolor:  and  so,  Mont  joy,  fare  you  well. 
The  sum  of  all  our  answer  is  but  this: 
We  would  not  seek  a  battle,  as  we  are; 
Nor,  as  we  are,  we  say  we  will  not  shun  it : 
So  tell  your  master. 

178.  "Ood  before"  was  then  used  for  Qod  being  my  guide. — 
H.  N.  H. 

180.  "There's  for  thy  labor";  Shakespeare  found  in  Holinshed  that 
the  king  gave  the  herald  "a  princely  reward." — C.  H.  H. 

186,  187.  The  Poet  here  follows  very  close  upon  the  chronicler: 
"And  so  Montjoy  king  at  armes  was  sent  to  the  king  of  England, 
to  defie  him  as  the  enemie  of  France,  and  to  tell  him  that  he  should 
shortlie  have  battell.  King  Henrie  answered, — 'mine  intent  is  to 
doo  as  it  pleaseth  God:     I  will  not  seeke  your  master  at  this  time; 

86 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  in.  Sc.  vii. 

Mont.  I  shall  deliver  so.     Thanks  to  your  high- 
ness. \_Exit. 
Glou.  I  hope  they  will  not  come  upon  us  now.     190 
K.  Hen.  We  are  in  God's  hand,  brother,  not  in 
theirs. 
March   to  the  bridge;  it  now   draws  toward 

night : 
Beyond  the  river  we  '11  encamp  ourselves. 
And  on  to-morrow  bid  them  march  away. 

[Exeunt 


Scene  VII 

The  French  camp,  near  Agincourt. 

Enter  the  Constable  of  France,  the  Lord  Ram- 
hureSj  Orleans,  Dauphin^  with  others. 

Con.  Tut  I  I  have  the  best  armor  of  the  world. 

Would  it  were  day! 
Orl.  You  have  an  excellent  armor;  but  let  my 

horse  have  his  due. 
Con.  It  is  the  best  horse  of  Europe. 
Orl.  Will  it  never  be  morning? 
Dau.  My  Lord  of  Orleans,  and  my  lord  high 

constable,  you  talk  of  horse  and  armor? 

but  if  he  or  his  seeke  me,  I  will  meet  with  them,  God  willing.  If 
anie  of  your  nation  attempt  once  to  stop  me  in  my  journie  now 
towards  Calis,  at  their  jeopardie  be  it;  and  yet  I  wish  not  anie  of 
you  so  unadvised,  as  to  be  the  occasion  that  I  die  your  tawnie 
ground  with  your  red  bloud!'  When  he  had  thus  answered  the 
herald,  he  gave  him  a  princelie  reward,  and  licence  to  depart."  It 
was  customary  thus  to  reward  heralds,  whatever  might  be  the  nature 
of  their  message. — H.  N.  H. 

87 


20 


Act  III.  Sc.  vii.  THE  LIFE  OF 

Orl.  You  are  as  well  provided  of  both  as  any 
prince  in  the  world.  10 

Dau.  What  a  long  night  is  this!  I  will  not 
change  my  horse  with  any  that  treads  but  on 
four  pasterns.  Ca,  ha!  he  bounds  from  the 
earth,  as  if  his  entrails  were  hairs;  le  cheval 
volant,  the  Pegasus,  chez  les  narines  de  feu ! 
When  I  bestride  him,  I  soar,  I  am  a  hawk: 
he  trots  the  air;  the  earth  sings  when  he 
touches  it;  the  basest  horn  of  his  hoof  is 
more  musical  than  the  pipe  of  Hermes. 

Orl.  He  's  of  the  color  of  the  nutmeg. 

Dau.  And  of  the  heat  of  the  ginger.  It  is  a 
beast  for  Perseus:  he  is  pure  air  and  fire; 
and  the  dull  elements  of  earth  and  water 
never  appear  in  him,  but  only  in  patient  still- 
ness while  his  rider  mounts  him :  he  is  indeed 
a  horse;  and  all  other  jades  you  may  call 
beasts. 

Con.  Indeed,  my  lord,  it  is  a  most  absolute  and 
excellent  horse. 

Dau.  It  is  the  prince  of  palfreys;  his  neigh  is   30 
like  the  bidding  of  a  monarch,  and  his  coun- 
tenance enforces  homage. 

Orl.  No  more,  cousin. 

Dau.  Nay,  the  man  hath  no  wit  that  cannot, 
from  the  rising  of  the  lark  to  the  lodging  of 
the  lamb,  varj'^  deserved  praise  on  my  pal- 
frey :  it  is  a  theme  as  fluent  as  the  sea :  turn 

14.  "entrails  were  hairs";  alluding  to  the  bounding  of  tennis  balls, 
which  were  stuffed  with  hair. — H.  N.  H. 

15.  "chez  les  narines";  Capell,  "qui  a";  Ft.,  "ches";  Heath  conj. 
"voyez,"  &c.— I.  G. 

88 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  ill.  Sc.  vii. 


40 


the  sands  into  eloquent  tongues,  and  my 
horse  is  argument  for  them  all:  'tis  a  subject 
for  a  sovereign  to  reason  on,  and  for  a  sov- 
ereign's sovereign  to  ride  on;  and  for  the 
world,  familiar  to  us  and  unknown,  to  lay- 
apart  their  particular  functions  and  wonder 
at  him.  I  once  writ  a  sonnet  in  his  praise, 
and  began  thus:  'Wonder  of  nature,' — 

Orl.  I  have  heard  a  sonnet  begin  so  to  one's 
mistress. 

Dau,  Then  did  they  imitate  that  which  I  com- 
posed to  my  courser,  for  my  horse  is  my 
mistress.  ^^ 

Orl.  Your  mistress  bears  well. 

Dau.  Me  well ;  which  is  the  prescript  praise  and 
perfection  of  a  good  and  particular  mis- 
tress. 

Con.  Nay,  for  methought  yesterday  your  mis- 
tress shrewdly  shook  your  back. 

Dau.  So  perhaps  did  yours. 

Con.  Mine  was  not  bridled. 

Dau.  O  then  belike  she  was  old  and  gentle ;  and 
you    rode,    like   a   kern    of    Ireland,    your   60 
French  hose  off,  and  in  your  straight  stros- 
sers. 

45.  "Wonder  of  Nature,"  probably  the  first  words  of  a  sonnet  or 
lyric  of  the  time. — I.  G. 

61.  "strossers";  so  in  the  original,  but  in  modern  editions  improp- 
erly changed  to  trossers.  Mr.  Dyce  shows  that  strossers  was  not  a 
misprint  for  trossers,  but  another  form  of  the  word,  as  the  latter  is 
but  another  form  of  trowsers.  Thus  in  Dekker's  Oull's  Hornbook: 
"Nor  the  Danish  sleeve  sagging  down  like  a  Welch  wallet,  the 
Italian's  close  strosser,  nor  the  French  standing  collar."  And  in 
Middleton's  No  Wit,  No  Help  like  a  Woman's:    "Or,  like  a  toiling 

89 


Act  III.  Sc.  vii.  THE  LIFE  OF 

Con.  You  have  good  judgment  in  horseman- 
ship. 

Dau.  Be  warned  by  me,  then :  they  that  ride  so, 
and  ride  not  warily,  fall  into  foul  bogs.  I 
had  rather  have  my  horse  to  my  mistress. 

Con.  I  had  as  lief  have  my  mistress  a  jade. 

Dau.  I  tell  thee,  constable,  my  mistress  wears 
his  own  hair.  70 

Con.  I  could  make  as  true  a  boast  as  that,  if  I 
had  a  sow  to  my  mistress. 

Dau.  'Le  chien  est  retourne  son  propre  vomisse- 
ment,  et  la  truie  lavee  au  bourbier:'  thou 
makest  use  of  any  thing. 

Con.  Yet  do  I  not  use  my  horse  for  my  mis- 
tress, or  any  such  proverb  so  little  kin  to  the 
purpose. 

Ram.  My  lord  constable,  the  armor  that  I  saw 
in  your  tent  to-night,  are  those  stars  or  suns  80 
upon  it? 

usurer,  sets  his  son  a-horseback  in  cloth-of-gold,  while  himself  goes 
to  the  devil  a-foot  in  a  pair  of  old  strossers." — As  for  the  thing 
meant,  it  was  not  what  we  now  understand  by  the  word,  being 
strait,  that  is,  tight,  and  exactly  fitted  to  the  shape.  Thus  in  Bul- 
wer's  Pedigree  of  the  English  Gallant,  1653:  "Now  our  hose  are 
made  so  close  to  our  breeches,  that,  like  the  Irish  trossers,  they  too 
manifestly  discover  the  dimensions  of  every  part."  Remains  but 
to  add,  that  strait  strossers  is  here  used  figuratively,  meaning  that 
he  had  no  trowsers  on  hut  what  he  was  born  with;  as  the  Irish 
Kerns  commonly  rode  without  breeches. — H.  N.  H. 

69,  70.  His  mistress  wears  his  own  hair,  because  his  horse  is  his 
mistress.  So  that  the  changing  of  his  to  her  in  modern  editions  is 
wrong. — H.  N.  H. 

73,  74.  "Le  chien  .  .  .  au  bourbier";  "the  dog  is  returned  to 
his  own  vomit,  and  the  washed  out  sow  to  the  mire,"  cp.  2  Peter  ii. 
22.— I.  G. 


90 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  III.  Sc.  vii 

Con.  Stars,  my  lord. 

Dau.  Some  of  them  will  fall  to-morrow,  I 
hope. 

Con.  And  yet  my  sky  shall  not  want. 

Dau.  That  may  be,  for  you  bear  a  many  super- 
fluously, and  'twere  more  honor  some  were 
away. 

Con.  Even  as  your  horse  bears  your  praises; 
who  would  trot  as  well,  were  some  of  your   90 
brags  dismounted. 

Dau.  Would  I  were  able  to  load  him  with  his 
desert!  Will  it  never  be  day?  I  will  trot 
to-morrow  a  mile,  and  my  way  shall  be 
paved  with  English  faces. 

Con.  I  will  not  say  so,  for  fear  I  should  be 
faced  out  of  my  way:  but  I  would  it  were 
morning ;  for  I  would  fain  be  about  the  ears 
of  the  English. 

Ram.  Who   will   go   to  hazard   with  me   for  100 
twenty  prisoners? 

Con.  You  must  first  go  yourself  to  hazard,  ere 
you  have  them. 

Dau.  'Tis  midnight;  I'll  go  arm  myself.     [Ea^it. 

Orl.  The  Dauphin  longs  for  morning. 

Bam.  He  longs  to  eat  the  English. 

Con.  I  think  he  will  eat  all  he  kills. 

Orl.  By  the  white  hand  of  my  lady,  he  's  a  gal- 
lant prince. 

Con.  Swear  by  her  foot,  that  she  may  tread  out  HO 
the  oath. 

Orl.  He  is  simply  the  most  active  gentleman  of 
France. 

91 


Act  III.  Sc.  vii.  THE  LIFE  OF 

Con.  Doing  is  activity;  and  he  will  still  be  do- 
ing. 

Orl.  He  never  did  harm,  that  I  heard  of. 

Con.  Nor  will  do  none  to-morrow :  he  will  keep 
that  good  name  still. 

Orl.  I  know  him  to  be  valiant. 

Con.  I  was  told  that  by  one  that  knows  him  120 
better  than  you. 

Orl.  What's  he? 

Con.  Marry,  he  told  me  so  himself;  and  he  said 
he  cared  not  who  knew  it. 

Orl.  He  needs  not ;  it  is  no  hidden  virtue  in  him. 

Con.  By  my  faith,  sir,  but  it  is ;  never  any  body 
saw  it  but  his  lackey:  'tis  a  hooded  valor; 
and  when  it  appears,  it  will  bate. 

Orl.  Ill  will  never  said  well. 

Con.  I  will  cap  that  proverb  with  'There  is  flat- 130 
tery  in  friendship.' 

Orl.  And  I  will  take  up  that  with  'Give  the 
devil  his  due.' 

Con.  Well  placed:  there  stands  your  friend  for 
the  devil :  have  at  the  very  eye  of  that  prov- 
erb with  *A  pox  of  the  devil.' 

Orl.  You  are  the  better  at  proverbs,  by  how 
much  'A  fool's  bolt  is  soon  shot.' 

Con.  You  have  shot  over. 

Orl.  'Tis  not  the  first  time  you  were  overshot.  140 

127,  128.  "'tis  a  hooded  valor,  .  .  .  hate";  this  pun  depends 
upon  the  equivocal  use  of  hate.  When  a  hawk  is  unhooded,  her  first 
action  is  to  bate,  that  is,  beat  her  wings,  or  flutter.  The  Constable 
would  insinuate  that  the  Dauphin's  courage,  when  he  prepares  for 
encounter,  will  bate,  that  is,  soon  diminish  or  evaporate. — H.  N.  H. 


92 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  III.  Sc.  vii. 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Mess.  My  lord  high  constable,  the  English  lie 
within  fifteen  hundred  paces  of  your  tents. 

Con.  Who  hath  measured  the  ground? 

Mess.  The  Lord  Grandpre. 

Con.  A  valiant  and  most  expert  gentleman. 
Would  it  were  day!     Alas,  poor  Harry  of 
England!  he  longs  not  for  the  dawning  as 
we  do. 

Orl.  What  a  wretched  and  peevish   fellow  is 
this  King  of  England,  to  mope  with  his  fat- 150 
brained  followers  so  far  out  of  his  knowl- 
edge ! 

Con.  If  the  English  had  any  apprehension, 
they  would  run  away. 

Orl.  That  they  lack ;  for  if  their  heads  had  any 
intellectual  armor,  they  could  never  wear 
such  heavy  head-pieces. 

Ram.  That  island  of  England  breeds  very  val- 
iant creatures;  their  mastiffs  are  of  un- 
matchable  courage.  160 

Orl.  Foolish  curs,  that  run  winking  into  the 
mouth  of  a  Russian  bear  and  have  their 
heads  crushed  like  rotten  apples !  You  may 
as  well  say,  that 's  a  valiant  flea  that  dare 
eat  his  breakfast  on  the  lip  of  a  Hon. 

Con.  Just,  just;  and  the  men  do  sympathize 
with  the  mastiffs  in  robustious  and  rough 
coming  on,  leaving  their  wits  with  their 
wives:  and  then  give  them  great  meals  of 
beef,  and  iron  and  steel,  they  will  eat  Hkel70 
wolves,  and  fight  like  devils. 
93 


Act  III.  Sc.  vii.  THE  LIFE  OF 

Orl.  Aye,  but  these  English  are  shrewdly  out 

of  beef. 
Con.  Then  shall  we  find  to-morrow  they  have 

only   stomachs   to   eat   and  none   to   fight. 

Now  is  it  time  to  arm:  come,  shall  we  about  it? 
Orl.  It  is  now  two  o'clock:  but,  let  me  see,  by  ten 

We  shall  have  each  a  hundred  Englishmen. 

\_Ea:eu7it. 


94 


KING   HENRY   V  Prologue 


ACT  FOURTH 
PROLOGUE 

Enter  Chorus. 

Chor.  Now  entertain  conjecture  of  a  time 

When  creeping  murmur  and  the  poring  dark 

Fills  the  wide  vessel  of  the  universe. 

From  camp  to  camp  through  the  foul  womb  of 

night 
The  hum  of  either  army  stilly  sounds. 
That  the  fix'd  sentinels  almost  receive 
The  secret  whispers  of  each  other's  watch : 
Fire  answers  fire,  and  through  their  paly  flames 
Each  battle  sees  the  other's  umber'd  face ; 
Steed  threatens   steed,   in  high   and  boastful 

neighs  10 

Piercing  the  night's  dull  ear ;  and  from  the  tents 
The  armorers,  accomplishing  the  knights. 
With  busy  hammers  closing  rivets  up, 

1.  "conjecture";  imagination. — C.  H.  H. 

2.  "poring";  purblind. — C.  H.  H. 

9.  "umber'd" ;  I  suspect  that  nothing  more  is  meant  than  shadow'd 
face.  The  epithet  paly  flames  is  against  the  other  interpretation. 
Vmbre  for  shadow  is  common  in  our  elder  writers.  Thus  Caven- 
dish, in  his  Metrical  Visions,  Prologue:  "Under  the  umber  of  an 
oke  with  bowes  pendant"  (Singer). — H.  N.  H. 

13.  "closing  rivets  up";  this  does  not  solely  refer  to  the  riveting 
the  plate  armor  before  It  was  put  on,  but  as  to  a  part  when  it  was 

95 


Prologue  THE  LIFE  OF 

Give  dreadful  note  of  preparation : 

The  country  cocks  do  crow,  the  clocks  do  toll, 

And  the  third  hour  of  drowsy  morning  name. 

Proud  of  their  numbers  and  secure  in  soul, 

The  confident  and  over-lusty  French 

Do  the  low-rated  English  play  at  dice ; 

And  chide  the  crippled  tardy-gaited  night      20 

Who,  like  a  foul  and  ugly  witch,  dotli  limp 

So    tediously    away.     The    poor    condemned 

English, 
Like  sacrifices,  by  their  watchful  fires 
Sit  patiently  and  inly  ruminate 
The  morning's  danger,  and  their  gesture  sad 
Investing  lank-lean  cheeks  and  war-worn  coats 
Presenteth  them  unto  the  gazing  moon 
So  many  horrid  ghosts.     O  now,  who  will  be- 
hold 
The  royal  captain  of  this  ruin'd  band 
Walking  from  watch  to  watch,  from  tent  to 
tent,  30 

on.  The  top  of  the  ouirass  had  a  little  projecting  bit  of  iron  that 
passed  through  a  hole  pierced  through  the  bottom  of  the  casque. 
When  both  were  put  on,  the  smith  or  armorer  presented  himself, 
with  his  riveting  hammer,  to  close  the  rivet  up;  so  that  the  party's 
head  should  remain  steady,  notwithstanding  the  force  of  any  blow 
that  might  be  given  on  the  cuirass  or  helmet. — H.  N.  H. 
16.  "name";  Tyrwhitt's  conj.;   Ff.,  "nam'd." — I.  G. 

19.  The  Poet  took  this  from  Holinshed:  "The  Frenchmen  in  the 
meane  while,  as  though  they  had  beene  sure  of  victorie,  made  great 
triumph;  for  the  capteins  had  determined  how  to  divide  the  spoile, 
and  the  soldiers  the  night  before  had  plaid  the  Englishmen  at  dice." 
— H.  N.  H. 

20.  "cripple  tardy-gaited" ;  Ff.,  "creeple-tardy-gated" — I.  G. 

26.  "Investing  lank-lean  cheeks  and  war-worn  coats";  Capell,  "And 
war-worn  coats,  investing  lank-lean  cheeks";  Hanmer,  "In  wasted"; 
Warburton,  "Invest  in";  Beckett  conj.  "Infesting,"  &c. — I.  G. 

96 


KING   HENRY   V  Prologue 

Let  him  cry  'Praise  and  glory  on  his  head !' 
For  forth  he  goes  and  visits  all  his  host, 
Bids  them  good  morrow  with  a  modest  smile, 
And  calls  them  brothers,  friends  and  country- 
men. 
Upon  his  royal  face  there  is  no  note 
How  dread  an  army  hath  enrounded  him; 
Nor  doth  he  dedicate  one  jot  of  color 
Unto  the  weary  and  all-watched  night, 
But  freshly  looks  and  over-bears  attaint 
With  cheerful  semblance  and  sweet  majesty;  40 
That  every  wretch,  pining  and  pale  before. 
Beholding  him,  plucks  comfort  from  his  looks : 
A  largess  universal  like  the  sun 
His  liberal  eye  doth  give  to  every  one. 
Thawing  cold  fear,  that  mean  and  gentle  all 
Behold,  as  may  unworthiness  define, 
A  little  touch  of  Harry  in  the  night. 
And  so  our  scene  must  to  the  battle  fly ; 
Where — O  for  pity! — we  shall  much  disgrace 
With  four  or  five  most  vile  and  ragged  foils,  50 
Right  ill-disposed  in  brawl  ridiculous, 
The  name  of  Agincourt.     Yet  sit  and  see, 
Minding  true  things  by  what  their  mockeries  be. 

46.  "as  may  unworthiness  define";  as  far  as  their  unworthy  natures 
permit,— C.  H.  H. 


XVII— 7  97 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  THE  LIFE  OF 

Scene  I 

The  English  camp  at  Agincourt. 

Enter  King  Henry,  Bedford,  and  Gloucester. 

K.  Hen.  Gloucester,  'tis  true  that  we  are  in  great 
.    danger ; 

The  greater  therefore  should  our  courage  be. 
Good    morrow,    brother    Bedford.     God    Al- 
mighty ! 
There  is  some  soul  of  goodness  in  things  evil, 
Would  men  observingly  distill  it  out. 
For  our  bad  neighbor  makes  us  early  stirrers, 
Which  is  both  healthful  and  good  husbandry : 
Besides,  they  are  our  outward  consciences, 
And  preachers  to  us  all,  admonishing 
That  we  should  dress  us  fairly  for  our  end.      10 
Thus  may  we  gather  honey  from  the  weed, 
And  make  a  moral  of  the  devil  himself. 

Enter  Erpingham. 

Good  morrow,  old  Sir  Thomas  Erpingham: 
A  good  soft  pillow  for  that  good  white  head 
Were  better  than  a  churlish  turf  of  France. 

Erp,  Not  so,  my  liege :  this  lodging  likes  me  better, 
Since  I  may  say  '  Now  lie  I  like  a  king.' 

K.  Hen.  'Tis  good  for  men  to  love  their  present 
pains 
Upon  example ;  so  the  spirit  is  eased : 

Sc.  1.  "Bedford";  the  historical  duke  of  Bedford,  left  as  "Gustos'' 
In  England,  was  not  at  Agincourt. — C.  H.  H. 

98 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  IV.  Sc.  i. 

And  when  the  mind  is  quicken'd,  out  of  doubt, 
The  organs,  though  defunct  and  dead  before,  ^1 
Break  up  their  drowsy  grave  and  newly  move, 
With  casted  slough  and  fresh  legerity. 
Lend   me   thy   cloak,    Sir    Thomas.     Brothers 

both, 
Commend  me  to  the  princes  in  our  camp ; 
Do  my  good  morrow  to  them,  and  anon 
Desire  them  all  to  my  pavilion. 

Glou.  We  shall,  my  liege. 

Erjh  Shall  I  attend  your  grace  ? 

K.  Hen.  No,  my  good  knight ; 

Go  with  my  brothers  to  my  lords  of  England: 
I  and  my  bosom  must  debate  awhile,  31 

And  then  I  would  no  other  company. 

Erp.  The  Lord  in  heaven  bless  thee,  noble  Harry! 

[Eoceunt  all  hut  King. 

K.  Hen.  God-a-mercy,    old   heart!   thou   speak'st 
cheerfully. 

Enter  Pistol. 

Pist.  Qui  va  la? 

K.  Hen.  A  friend. 

Pist.  Discuss  unto  me;  art  thou  officer? 

Or  art  thou  base,  common,  and  popular? 
K.  Hen.  I  am  a  gentleman  of  a  company. 
Pist.  Trail'st  thou  the  puissant  pike?  40 

K.  Hen.  Even  so.     What  are  you  ? 

23.  "with  casted  slouyh" ;  the  allusion  is  to  tlie  casting  of  the 
slouffh  or  skin  of  the  snake  annually,  by  which  act  he  is  supposed  to 
regain  new  vigor  and  fresh  youth.  Legerity  is  lightness,  nimbleness. 
Leffirete,  French. — H.  N.  H. 

35,  "Qui  va  la";  Rowe's  emendation  of  Ff.  "che  vous  la?" — I.  G. 

99 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  THE  LIFE  OF 

Pist.  As  good  a  gentleman  as  the  emperor. 

K.  Hen.  Then  you  are  a  better  than  the  king. 

Pist.  The  king  's  a  bawcock,  and  a  heart  of  gold, 
A  lad  of  life,  an  imp  of  fame ; 
Of  parents  good,  of  fist  most  valiant : 
I  kiss  his  dirty  shoe,  and  from  heart-string 
I  love  the  lovely  bully.     What  is  thy  name  ? 

K.  Hen.  Harry  le  Roy. 

Pist.  Le  Roy !  a  Cornish  name :  art  thou  of  Cornish 
crew?  50 

K.  Hen.  No,  I  am  a  Welshman. 

Pist.  Know'st  thou  Fluellen? 

K.  Hen.  Yes. 

Pist.  Tell  him,  I  '11  knock  his  leek  about  his  pate 
Upon  Saint  Davy's  day. 

K.  Hen.  Do  not  you  wear  your  dagger  in  your 
cap  that  day,  lest  he  knock  that  about  yours. 

Pist.  Art  thou  his  friend  ? 

K.  Hen.  And  his  kinsman  too. 

Pist.  The  figo  for  thee,  then!  60 

K.  Hen.  I  thank  you:  God  be  with  you! 

Pist.  My  name  is  Pistol  call'd.  [Exit. 

K.  Hen.  It  sorts  well  with  your  fierceness. 

Enter  Fluellen  and  Gower, 

Gow.  Captain  Fluellen! 

Flu.  So!  in  the  name  of  Jesu  Christ  speak 
lower.  It  is  the  greatest  admiration  in  the 
universal  world,  when  the  true  and  aunchient 

65.  "speak  lower";  so  Q.  3,  adopted  by  Malone;  Qq.  1,  3,  "lewer";. 
Ff.,  "fewer";  ep.  "to  speak  few,"  a  provincialism  for  "to  speak 
low";  ^according  Xq  gteev^ns,  who  prefers  the  foUo  reading),— J,  G.^ 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  iv.  Sc.  1. 

prerogatifes  and  laws  of  the  wars  is  not 
kept :  if  you  would  take  the  pains  but  to  ex- 
amine the  wars  of  Pompey  the  Great,  you  70 
shall  find,  I  warrant  you,  that  there  is  no 
tiddle  taddle  nor  pibble  pabble  in  Pompey's 
camp;  I  warrant  you,  you  shall  find  the 
ceremonies  of  the  wars,  and  the  cares  of  it, 
and  the  forms  of  it,  and  the  sobriety  of  it, 
and  the  modesty  of  it,  to  be  otherwise. 

Gow,  Why,  the  enemy  is  loud;  you  hear  him 
all  night. 

Flu.  If  the  enemy  is  an  ass  and  a  fool  and  a 
prating    coxcomb,    is    it    meet,    think   you,    80 
that  we  should  also,  look  you,  be  an  ass  and 
a  fool  and  a  prating  coxcomb?  in  your  own 
conscience,  now? 

Gow.  I  will  speak  lower. 

Flu.  I  pray  you  and  beseech  you  that  you  will. 

[Exeunt  Gower  and  Fluellen, 

K.  Hen.  Though  it  appear  a  little  out  of  fashion. 
There  is  much  care  and  valor  in  this  Welshman. 

Enter  three  soldiers,  John  Bates,  Alexander  Court, 
and  Michael  Williams. 


Court.  Brother  John   Bates,   is   not   that  the 

morning  which  breaks  yonder? 
Bates.  I  think  it  be :  but  we  have  no  great  cause 

to  desire  the  approach  of  day. 
WilL  We  see  yonder  the  beginning  of  the  day, 

but  I  think  we  shall  never  see  the  end  of  it. 

Who  goes  there? 
K.  Hen.  A  friend. 

ioi 


90 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  THE  LIFE  OF 

Will.  Under  what  captain  serve  you? 

K.  Hen.  Under  Sir  Thomas  Erpingham. 

Will.  A  good  old  commander  and  a  most  kind 
gentleman :  I  pray  you,  what  thinks  he  of  100 
our  estate? 

K.  Hen.  Even  as  men  wrecked  upon  a  sand, 
that  look  to  be  washed  off  the  next  tide. 

Bates.  He  hath  not  told  his  thought  to  the  king? 

K.  Hen.  No ;  nor  it  is  not  meet  he  should.  For, 
though  I  speak  it  to  you,  I  think  the  king  is 
but  a  man,  as  I  am :  the  violet  smells  to  him 
as  it  doth  to  me ;  the  element  shows  to  him  as 
it  doth  to  me ;  all  his  senses  have  but  human 
conditions :  his  ceremonies  laid  by,  in  his  HO 
nakedness  he  appears  but  a  man;  and 
though  his  affections  are  higher  mounted 
than  ours,  yet,  when  they  stoop,  they  stoop 
with  the  like  wing.  Therefore  when  he  sees 
reason  of  fears,  as  we  do,  his  fears,  out  of 
doubt,  be  of  the  same  relish  as  ours  are :  yet, 
in  reason,  no  man  should  possess  him  with 
any  appearance  of  fear,  lest  he,  by  showing 
it,  should  dishearten  his  army. 

Bates.  He  may  show  what  outward  courage  he  120 
will;  but  I  believe,  as  cold  a  night  as  'tis,  he 
could  wish  himself  in  Thames  up  to  the  neck; 
and  so  I  would  he  were,  and  I  by  him,  at  all 
adventures,  so  we  were  quit  here. 

K.  Hen.  By  my  troth,  I  will  speak  my  con*- 
science  of  the  king.  I  think  he  would  not 
wish  himself  any  where  but  where  he  is. 

98.  "Sir  Thomas";  Theobald's  correction  of  Ff.  "John."— I.  G. 

102 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  iv.  Sc.  i. 

Bates.  Then  I  would  he  were  here  alone;  so 
should  he  be  sure  to  be  ransomed,  and  a 
many  poor  men's  lives  saved.  J^'O 

K.  Hen.  I  dare  say  you  love  him  not  so  ill,  to 
wish  him  here  alone,  howsoever  you  speak 
this  to  feel  other  men's  minds:  methinks  I 
could  not  die  any  where  so  contented  as  in 
the  king's  company;  his  cause  being  just  and 
his  quarrel  honorable. 

Will.  That 's  more  than  we  know. 

Bates.  Aye,  or  more  than  we  should  seek  after; 
for  we  know  enough,  if  we  know  we  are  the 
king's  subjects:  if  his  cause  be  wrong,  our  140 
obedience  to  the  king  wipes  the  crime  of  it 
out  of  us. 

Will.  But  if  the  cause  be  not  good,  the  king 
himself  hath  a  heavy  reckoning  to  make, 
when  all  those  legs  and  arms  and  heads, 
chopped  off  in  a  battle,  shall  join  together 
at  the  latter  day  and  cry  all  'We  died  at 
such  a  place;'  some  swearing,  some  crying 
for  a  surgeon,  some  upon  their  wives  left 
poor  behind  them,  some  upon  the  debts  they  150 
owe,  some  upon  their  children  rawly  left.  I 
am  afeard  there  are  few  die  well  that  die  in 
battle ;  for  how  can  they  charitably  dispose  of 
anything,  when  blood  is  their  argument? 
Now,  if  these  men  do  not  die  well,  it  will  be  a 
black  matter  for  the  king  that  led  them  to  it ; 
whom  to  disobey  were  against  all  proportion 
of  subjection. 

K.  Hen.  So,  if  a  son  that  is  by  his  father  sent 

103 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  THE  LIFE  OF 

about  merchandise  do  sinfully  miscarry  upon  160 
the  sea,  the  imputation  of  his  wickedness,  by 
your  rule,  should  be  imposed  upon  his  father 
that  sent  him:  or  if  a  servant,  under  his 
master's  command  transporting  a  sum  of 
money,  be  assailed  by  robbers  and  die  in 
many  irreconciled  iniquities,  you  may  call  the 
business  of  the  master  the  author  of  the  serv- 
ant's damnation :  but  this  is  not  so :  the  king 
is  not  bound  to  answer  the  particular  endings 
of  his  soldiers,  the  father  of  his  son,  nor  the  170 
master  of  his  servant;  for  they  purpose  not 
their  death,  when  they  purpose  their  services. 
Besides,  there  is  no  king,  be  his  cause  never 
so  spotless,  if  it  come  to  the  arbitrement  of 
swords,  can  try  it  out  with  all  unspotted  sol- 
diers: some  peradventure  have  on  them  the 
guilt  of  premeditated  and  contrived  murder ; 
some,  of  beguiling  virgins  with  the  broken 
seals  of  perjury;  some,  making  the  wars  their 
bulwark,  that  have  before  gored  the  gentle  180 
bosom  of  peace  with  pillage  and  robbery. 
Now,  if  these  men  have  defeated  the  law  and 
outrun  native  punishment,  though  they  can 
outstrip  men,  they  have  no  wings  to  fly  from 
God:  war  is  His  beadle,  war  is  His  venge- 
ance; so  that  here  men  are  punished  for  be- 
fore-breach  of  the  king's  laws  in  now  the 
king's  quarrel :  where  they  feared  the  death, 
they  have  borne  life  away;  and  where  they 

160.  "sinfvlly  miscarry  npon  the  sea";  Pope  reads  from  Qq.  "fall 
into  some  lewd  action  and  miscarry." — I.  G. 

101. 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  iv.  Sc.  i. 

would  be  safe,  they  perish :  then  if  they  die  190 
unprovided,  no  more  is  the  king  guilty  of 
their  damnation  than  he  was  before  guilty 
of  those  impieties  for  the  which  they  are 
now  visited.  Every  subject's  duty  is  the 
king's;  but  every  subject's  soul  is  his  own. 
Therefore  should  every  soldier  in  the  wars 
do  as  every  sick  man  in  his  bed,  wash  every 
mote  out  of  his  conscience:  and  dying  so, 
death  is  to  him  advantage ;  or  not  dying,  the 
time  was  blessedly  lost  wherein  such  prepa-  200 
ration  was  gained:  and  in  him  that  escapes, 
it  were  not  sin  to  think  that,  making  God 
so  free  an  offer,  He  let  him  outlive  that  day 
to  see  His  greatness  and  to  teach  others 
how  they  should  prepare. 

Will.  'Tis  certain,  every  man  that  dies  ill,  the 
ill  upon  his  own  head,  the  king  is  not  to  an- 
swer it. 

Bates.  I  do  not  desire  he  should  answer  for  me ; 
and  yet  I  determine  to  fight  lustily  for  him.  210 

K.  Hen.  I  myself  heard  the  king  say  he  would 
not  be  ransomed. 

Will.  Aye,  he  said  so,  to  make  us  fight  cheer- 
fully :  but  when  our  throats  are  cut,  he  may 
be  ransomed,  and  we  ne'er  the  wiser. 

K.  Hen.  If  I  live  to  see  it,  I  will  never  trust 
his  word  after. 

Will.  You  pay  him  then.  That 's  a  perilous 
shot  out  of  an  elder-gun,  that  a  poor  and  a 

198.  "mote";  Malone's  emendation  of  Ff.  "Moth";  Qq.,  "moath" 

105 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  THE  LIFE  OF 

private  displeasure  can  do  against  a  mon-  220 

arch!  you  may  as  well  go  about  to  turn  the 

sun  to  ice  with  fanning  in  his  face  with  a 

peacock's  feather.     You  '11  never  trust  his 

word  after!  come,  'tis  a  foolish  saying. 
K.  Hen.  Your  reproof  is  something  too  round: 

I  should  be  angry  with  you,  if  the  time  were 

convenient. 
Will.  Let  it  be  a  quarrel  between  us,  if  you 

live. 
K.  Hen.  I  embrace  it.  230 

Will.  How  shall  I  know  thee  again? 
K.  Hen.  Give  me  any  gage  of  thine,  and  I  will 

wear  it  in  my  bonnet:  then,  if  ever  thou 

darest  acknowledge  it,  I  will  make  it  my 

quarrel. 
Will.  Here  's  my  glove :  give  me  another  of 

thine. 
K.  Hen.  There. 
Will.  This  will  I  also  wear  in  my  cap:  if  ever 

thou  come  to  me  and  say,  after  to-morrow,  240 

'This  is  my  glove,'  by  this  hand,  I  will  take 

thee  a  box  on  the  ear. 
K,  Hen.  If  ever  I  Uve  to  see  it,  I  will  challenge 

it. 
Will.  Thou  darest  as  well  be  hanged. 
K,  Hen.  Well,  I  will  do  it,  though  I  take  thee 

in  the  king's  company. 
Will.  Keep  thy  word:  fare  thee  well. 
Bates.  Be    friends,    you    English    fools,    be 

friends :  we  have  French  quarrels  enow,  if  250 

you  could  tell  how  to  reckon. 

106 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  IV.  Sc.  i. 

K.  Hen.  Indeed,  the  French  may  lay  twenty 
French  crowns  to  one,  they  will  beat  us ;  for 
they  bear  them  on  their  shoulders:  but  it  is 
no  English  treason  to  cut  French  crowns, 
and  to-morrow  the  king  himself  will  be  a 
clipper. 

[Exeunt  Soldiers. 
Upon  the  king!  let  us  our  lives,  our  souls, 
Our  debts,  our  careful  wives. 
Our  children  and  our  sins  lay  on  the  king :  260 
We  must  bear  all.     O  hard  condition. 
Twin-born  with  greatness,  subject  to  the  breath 
Of  every  fool,  whose  sense  no  more  can  feel 
But  his  own  wringing  I     What  infinite  heart's- 

ease 
Must  kings  neglect,  that  private  men  enjoy! 
And  what  have  kings,  that  privates  have  not 

too, 
Save  ceremony,  save  general  ceremony? 
And  what  art  thou,  thou  idol  ceremony? 
What  kind  of  god  art  thou,  that  sufFer'st  more 
Of  mortal  griefs  than  do  thy  worshipers?      270 
What  are  thy  rents?  what  are  thy  comings 

in? 
O  ceremony,  show  me  but  thy  worth! 

254-257.  "hut  it  is,"  etc.;  of  course  reference  is  here  had  to  the 
old  doctrine,  that  marring  or  defacing  the  king's  image  on  the  coin 
was  equivalent  to  making  war  on  the  king. — H.  N.  H. 

258.  There  is  something  very  striking  and  solemn  in  the  soliloquy 
into  which  the  king  breaks  immediately  as  soon  as  he  is  left  alone. 
Something  like  this  every  breast  has  felt.  Reflection  and  serious- 
ness rush  upon  the  mind  upon  the  separation  of  gay  company,  and 
especially  after  forced  and  unwilling  merriment  (Johnson). — H. 
N.  H. 

107 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  THE  LIFE  OF 

What  is  thy  soul  of  adoration? 

Art  thou  aught  else  but  place,  degree  and  form, 

Creating  awe  and  fear  in  other  men? 

Wherein  thou  art  less  happy  being  fear'd 

Than  they  in  fearing. 

What  drink'st  thou  oft,  instead  of  homage 

sweet. 
But  poison'd  flattery?     O,  be  sick,  great  great- 
ness, 
And  bid  thy  ceremony  give  thee  cure!  280 

Think'st  thou  the  fiery  fever  will  go  out 
With  titles  blown  from  adulation? 
Will  it  give  place  to  flexure  and  low  bending? 
Canst  thou,  when  thou  command'st  the  beggar's 

knee. 
Command  the  health  of  it?     No,  thou  proud 

dream, 
That  play'st  so  subtly  with  a  king's  repose; 
I  am  a  king  that  find  thee,  and  I  know 
'Tis  not  the  balm,  the  scepter  and  the  ball, 
The  sword,  the  mace,  the  crown  imperial. 
The  intertissued  robe  of  gold  and  pearl,  290 

The  farced  title  running  'fore  the  king, 
The  throne  he  sits  on,  nor  the  tide  of  pomp 
That  beats  upon  the  high  shore  of  this  world, 

273.  "What  is  thy  soul  of  adoration?";  Knight's  reading;  F.  1 
reads,  "What?  is  thy  Soule  of  Odoration?";  Ff.  2,  3,  4,  "Adora- 
tion"; Warburton,  "What  is  thy  toll,  O  adoration?" ;  Hanmer,  "What 
is  thy  shew  of  adoration?";  Johnson,  "What  is  thy  soul,  O  adora- 
tion?" &c.,  &c.  (v.  Glossary).— I.  G. 

This  is  the  reading  of  the  old  copy,  which  Malone  changed  to 
"What  is  the  soul  of  adoration?"  The  present  reading  is  sufficiently 
intelligible:  "O  ceremony,  show  me  what  value  thou  art  of!  What 
is  thy  soul  or  essence  of  external  worship  or  adoration?" — H.  N.  H. 

108 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  iv.  Sc.  i. 

No,  not  all  these,  thrice-gorgeous  ceremony. 
Not  all  these,  laid  in  bed  majestical. 
Can  sleep  so  soundly  as  the  wretched  slave, 
Who  with  a  body  fill'd  and  vacant  mind 
Gets  him  to  rest,  cramm'd  with  distressful 

bread ; 
Never  sees  horrid  night,  the  child  of  hell. 
But,  like  a  lackey,  from  the  rise  to  set  300 

Sweats  in  the  eye  of  Phoebus  and  all  night 
Sleeps  in  Etysium;  next  day  after  dawn. 
Doth  rise  and  help  Hyperion  to  his  horse, 
And  follows  so  the  ever-running  year, 
With  profitable  labor,  to  his  grave: 
And,  but  for  ceremony,  such  a  wretch, 
Winding  up   days  with  toil  and  nights  with 

sleep. 
Had  the  fore-hand  and  vantage  of  a  king. 
The  slave,  a  member  of  the  country's  peace. 
Enjoys  it;  but  in  gross  brain  little  wots         310 
What  watch  the  king  keeps  to  maintain  the 

peace. 
Whose  hours  the  peasant  best  advantages. 

Re-enter  Erpingham. 

Exp.  My  lord,  your  nobles,  jealous  of  your  ab- 
sence. 

Seek  through  your  camp  to  find  you. 
K.  Hen.  Good  old  knight, 

Collect  them  all  together  at  my  tent. 

303.  i.  e.  rises  at  dawn.— C.  H.  H. 

312.  "advantages";  benefit  (the  peasant).  The  singular  after 
"hours"  is  probably  due  to  the  notion  of  "peace,"  the  real  source  of 
the  benefit.— C,  H,"  H.  - 

109 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  THE  LIFE  OF 

I  '11  be  before  thee. 
Erp.  I   shall  do't,  my  lord.     [Eadt. 

K.  Hen.  O  God  of  battles!  steel  my  soldiers' 

hearts ; 
Possess  them  not  with  fear;  take  from  them 

now 
The  sense  of  reckoning,  if  the  opposed  numbers 
Pluck  their  hearts  from  them.     Not  to-day,  O 

Lord,  321 

O,  not  to-day,  think  not  upon  the  fault 
My  father  made  in  compassing  the  crown! 
I  Richard's  body  have  interred  new; 
And  on  it  have  bestow'd  more  contrite  tears 
Than  from  it  issued  forced  drops  of  blood : 
Five  hundred  poor  I  have  in  yearly  pay, 
Who  twice  a-day  their  wither'd  hands  hold  up 
Toward  heaven,  to  pardon  blood;  and  I  have 

built  329 

Two  chantries,  where  the  sad  and  solemn  priests 
Sing  still  for  Richard's  soul.     More  will  I  do; 
Though  all  that  I  can  do  is  nothing  worth, 
Since  that  my  penitence  comes  after  all, 

319,  330.  "take  from  them  now  the  seme  of  reckoning,  if  the 
opposed  numbers" ;  Tyrwhitt's  reading;  Ff.,  "take  .  .  .  rcrk'ninij 
of  the  opposed  numbers:";  Theobald,  "take  .  .  .  reck'ning;  lest 
th'  opposed  numbers,"  &c.,  &c. — I.  G. 

324.  "interred  new";  Holinshed  relates  that  Richard's  body  was 
removed  from  Langley,  "with  all  funeral  dignity  convenient  for  his 
estate,"  to  Westminster. — C.  H.  H. 

330.  "ttco  chantries";  one  of  these  was  for  Carthusian  monks,  and 
was  called  Bethlehem;  the  other  was  for  religious  men  and  women 
of  the  order  of  St.  Bridget,  and  was  named  Sion.  They  were  on 
opposite  sides  of  the  Thames,  and  adjoined  the  royal  manor  of 
Sheen,  now  called  Richmond. — H.  N.  H. 

333,  334.  "Since  after  all  my  acts  of  atonement  it  remains  needful 
for  my  pardon  that  I  should  repent." — C.  H.  H, 

110 


«  £ 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  IV.  Sc.  ii. 

Imploring  pardon. 

Re-enter  Gloucester. 

Glou.  My  liege! 

K.  Hen.       My  brother  Gloucester's  voice?     Aye; 
I  know  thy  errand,  I  will  go  with  thee : 
The  day,  my  friends  and  all  things  stay  for  me. 

lEiveunt. 

Scene  II 

The  French  camp. 

Enter  the  Dauphin,  Orleans,  Rambures,  and  others. 

Orl.  The  sun  doth  gild  our  armor;  up,  my  lords! 
Dau.  Montez  a  cheval!  My  horse!  varlet!  laquais! 

ha! 
Orl.  O  brave  spirit! 
Dau.  Via!  les  eaux  et  la  terre. 
Orl.  Rien  puis?  Fair  et  le  feu. 
Dau.  Ciel,  cousin  Orleans. 

Enter  Constable. 

Now,  my  lord  constable ! 
Con.  Hark,   how   our   steeds   for   present   service 

neigh. 
Dau.  Mount  them,  and  make  incision  in  their  hides. 

That  their  hot  blood  may  spin  in  English  eyes, 

4.  "Via";  an  exclamation  of  encouragement,  on,  away;  of  Italian 
origin.     See  The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor,  Act  ii.  sc.  2. — H.  N.  H. 

4-6.  The  incoherent  French  scraps  are  in  any  case  meant  to  sug- 
gest ostentatious  valor,  probablj^  somewliat  to  this  effect:  "Water 
and  earth  I  Mill  ride  through — ";  to  which  Orleans  replies  ironically: 
"Anything  further?  Air  and  fire?" — "Aye,  and  heaven,  cousin  Or- 
leans."—C.  H.  H. 

Ill 


Act  IV.  Sc.  ii.  THE  LIFE  OF 

And  dout  them  with  superfluous  courage,  ha !  H 
Ram.  What,  will  you  have  them  weep  our  horses' 
blood? 
How  shall  we  then  behold  their  natural  tears? 

Enter  Messenger. 

Mess,  The   English   are   embattled,   you   French 

peers. 
Con.  To  horse,  you  gallant  princes!  straight  to 

horse ! 
Do  but  behold  yon  poor  and  starved  band. 
And  your  fair  show  shall  suck  away  their  souls, 
Leaving  them  but  the  shales  and  husks  of  men. 
There  is  not  work  enough  for  all  our  hands ; 
Scarce  blood  enough  in  all  their  sickly  veins  20 
To  give  each  naked  curtle-ax  a  stain. 
That  our  French  gallants  shall  to-day  draw  out, 
And  sheathe  for  lack  .of  sport:  let  us  but  blow 

on  them, 
The  vapor  of  our  valor  will  o'erturn  them. 
'Tis  positive  'gainst  all  exceptions,  lords. 
That  our  superfluous  lackeys  and  our  peasants, 
Who  in  unnecessary  action  swarm 
About  our  squares  of  battle,  were  enow 
To  purge  this  field  of  such  a  hilding  foe, 
Though  we  upon  this  mountain's  basis  by     30 
Took  stand  for  idle  speculation : 
But  that  our  honors  must  not.     What 's  to  say? 
A  very  little  little  let  us  do. 
And  all  is  done.     Then  let  the  trumpets  sound 
The  tucket  sonance  and  the  note  to  mount; 

35.  The  "tucket-sonnance,"  or  sounding  of  the  tucket,  was  a  flourish 

11^ 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  iv.  Sc.  ii. 

For  our  approach  shall  so  much  dare  the  field 
That  England  shall  couch  down  in  fear  and 
yield. 

Enter  Grandpre. 

Grand.  Why  do  you  stay  so  long,  my  lords  of 
France? 
Yon  island  carrions,  desperate  of  their  bones, 
Ill-favoredly  become  the  morning  field:  40 

Their  ragged  curtains  poorly  are  let  loose. 
And  our  air  shakes  them  passing  scornfully: 
Big  Mars  seems  bankrupt  in  their  beggar'd  host 
And  faintly  through  a  rusty  beaver  peeps: 
The  horsemen  sit  like  fixed  candlesticks. 
With  torch-staves  in  their  hand ;  and  their  poor 
jades 

on  a  trumpet  as  a  signal. — The  Constable's  spirits  are  kicking  up 
their  heels  and  dancing  in  merry  scorn;  the  note  to  mount  and  dare 
the  field  being  terms  fitter  for  a  sporting  excursion  than  for  a  war 
tussle.  Johnson  remarks, — "He  uses  the  terms  of  the  field,  as 
if  they  were  going  out  only  to  the  chase  for  sport.  To  dare  the  field 
is  a  phrase  in  falconry.  Birds  are  dared  when,  by  the  falcon  in 
the  air,  they  are  terrified  from  rising,  so  that  they  will  be  some- 
times taken  by  the  hand." — H.  N.  H. 

39,  40.  Holinshed  gives  the  following  account  of  the  march  from 
Harfleur  to  Agincourt:  "The  Englishmen  were  brought  into  some 
distresse  in  this  journie,  by  reason  of  their  vittels  in  maner  spent, 
and  no  hope  to  get  more;  for  the  enemies  had  destroied  all  the 
come  before  they  came.  Rest  could  they  none  take,  for  their 
enemies  with  alarmes  did  ever  so  infest  them:  dailie  it  rained,  night- 
lie  it  freezed:  of  fuell  there  was  great  scarsitie,  of  fluxes  plentie: 
monie  inough,  but  wares  for  their  releefe  to  bestowe  it  on  had  they 
none."— H.  N.  H. 

45.  "candlesticks";  ancient  candlesticks  were  often  in  the  form  of 
human  figures  holding  the  socket,  for  the  lights,  in  their  extended 
hands.  They  are  mentioned  in  Vittoria  Corombona,  1612:  "He 
showed  like  a  pewter  candlestick,  fashioned  like  a  man  in  armor, 
holding  a  tilting  staff  in  his  hand  little  bigger  than  a  candle." — 
H.  N.  H. 

XVII— 8  113 


Act  IV.  Sc.  ii.  THE  LIFE  OF 

Lob  down  their  heads,  dropping  the  hides  and 
hips, 

The   gum   down-roping  from  their  pale-dead 
eyes, 

And  in  their  pale  dull  mouths  the  gimmal  bit 

Lies  foul  with  chew'd  grass,  still  and  motion- 
less ;  50 

And  their  executors,  the  knavish  crows. 

Fly  o'er  them,  all  impatient  for  their  hour. 

Description  cannot  suit  itself  in  words 

To  demonstrate  the  life  of  such  a  battle 

In  life  so  lifeless  as  it  shows  itself. 
Con.  They  have  said  their  prayers,  and  they  stay 

for  death. 
Dau.  Shall  we  go  send  them  dinners  and  fresh 
suits 

And  give  their  fasting  horses  provender. 

And  after  fight  with  them  ? 
Con.  I  stay  but  for  my  guidon:  to  the  field!       60 

I  will  the  banner  from  a  trumpet  take. 

And  use  it  for  my  haste.     Come,  come  away! 

The  sun  is  high,  and  we  outwear  the  day. 

[Exeunt 

56.  "prayers";  two  syllables. — C.  H.  H. 

60.  "I  stay  but  for  my  guidon";  thus  in  Holinshed:  "They  thought 
themselves  so  sure  of  victorie,  that  diverse  of  the  noblemen  made 
such  hast  toward  the  battell,  that  they  left  manie  of  their  servants 
and  men  of  warre  behind  them,  and  some  of  them  would  not  once 
stale  for  their  standards;  as  amongst  other  the  duke  of  Brabant, 
when  his  standard  waS  not  come,  caused  a  banner  to  be  taken  from 
a  trumpet,  and  fastened  to  a  speare,  the  which  he  commanded  to  be 
borne  before  him,  instead  of  his  standard." — H.  N.  H. 


114 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  IV.  Sc.  iii. 


Scene  III 

The  English  camp. 

Enter  Gloucester,  Bedford,  Exeter,  Erpingham, 
with  all  his  host:  Salisbury  and  Westmoreland. 

Glou.  Where  is  the  king? 

Bed.  The  king  himself  is  rode  to  view  their  battle. 

West.  Of  fighting  men  they  have  full  three  score 

thousand. 
Exe.  There  's  five  to  one ;  besides  they  all  are  fresh. 
Sal.  God's  arm  strike  with  us!  'tis  a  fearful  odds. 
God  be  wi'  you,  princes  all ;  I  '11  to  my  charge : 
If  we  no  more  meet  till  we  meet  in  heaven, 
Then,  joyfully,  my  noble  Lord  of  Bedford, 
My  dear  Lord  Gloucester,  and  my  good  Lord 

Exeter, 
And  my  kind  kinsman,  warriors  all,  adieu !      10 
Bed.  Farewell,  good  Salisbury;  and  good  luck  go 
with  thee! 

Sc.  3.  Enter  Gloucester,  etc.  The  historical  Salisbury  and  West- 
moreland (as  well  as  Bedford)  were  not  present  at  Ajrincourt 
(Stone's  Holinshed,  p.  187).  But  Shakespeare  hardly  had  access  to 
tlie  evidence  that  they  were  not. — C.  II.  H. 

\.  "There's  five  to  one";  Holinslicd,  who  also  gives  the  Frencli 
numbers  as  60,000,  reckons  them  to  have  been  "six  to  one."  But 
lie  estimates  Henry's  force  on  the  march  to  Calais  as  15,000.  Shake- 
speare would  .seem  to  have  taken  a  mean  between  these  proportions. 
— C.  H.  H. 

10.  "viy  kind  kinsman";  this  is  addressed  to  Westmoreland  by 
the  speaker,  who  was  Thomas  Montacnte,  earl  of  Salisbury:  he  was 
not  in  point  of  fact  related  to  Westmoreland;  there  was  only  a 
kind  of  connection  by  marriage  between  their  families. — H.  N.  H. 

11-14.  In  Ff.  vv.  13,  14  are  given  to  Bedford,  and  placed  before 
V.  12.     The  present  arrangement  is  due  to  Thirlby. — C.  H.  H. 

115 


Act  IV.  Sc.  iii.  THE  LIFE  OF 

Exe.  Farewell,  kind  lord;  fight  valiantly  to-day: 
And  yet  I  do  thee  wrong  to  mind  thee  of  it, 
For  thou  art  framed  of  the  firm  truth  of  valor. 

[Exit  Salisbury. 

Bed.  He  is  as  full  of  valor  as  of  kindness; 
Princely  in  both. 

Enter  the  King. 

West.  O  that  we  now  had  here 

But  one  ten  thousand  of  those  men  in  England 
That  do  no  work  to-day! 

K.  Hen.  What 's  he  that  wishes  so? 

My     cousin     Westmoreland?     No     my     fair 

cousin : 
If  we  are  mark'd  to  die,  we  are  enow  20 

To  do  our  country  loss ;  and  if  to  live, 
The  fewer  men,  the  greater  share  of  honor. 
God's  will !  I  pray  thee,  wish  not  one  man  more. 
By  Jove,  I  am  not  covetous  for  gold, 
Nor  care  I  who  doth  feed  upon  my  cost ; 

16.  "O  that  we  now  had  here"  etc.  Shakespeare  had  no  authority 
for  assigning  this  wish  to  Westmoreland,  who  (as  stated)  was  not 
present  at  Agincourt  at  all.  In  Qq.  it  is  attributed  to  Warwick, 
who  was  also  absent,  being  Governor  of  Calais.  It  is  known  from 
the  Gesta  to  have  been  Sir  Walter  Hungerford. — C.  H.  H. 

20,  21.  Here  again  the  Poet  found  something  in  the  chronicler  to 
work  upon:  "It  is  said  that  as  he  heard  one  of  the  host  utter  his 
wish  to  another  thus,  'I  would  to  God  there  were  with  us  now  so 
manie  good  soldiers  as  are  at  this  houre  within  England !'  the 
king  answered, — I  would  not  wish  a  man  more  here  than  I  have: 
we  are  indeed  in  comparison  of  the  enemies  but  a  few,  but,  if  God 
of  his  clemencie  doo  favour  us  and  our  cause,  as  I  trust  he  will, 
we  shall  speed  well  inough.  And  if  so  be  that  for  our  offenses 
sakes  we  shall  be  delivered  into  the  hands  of  our  enemies,  the 
lesse  number  we  be,  the  lesse  damage  shall  the  realme  of  England 
susteine," — H,  N,  H. 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  iv.  Sc.  m. 

It  yearns  me  not  if  men  my  garments  wear; 
Such  outward  things  dwell  not  in  my  desires : 
But  if  it  be  a  sin  to  covet  honor, 
I  am  the  most  offending  soul  alive. 
No,  faith,  my  coz,  wish  not  a  man  from  Eng- 
land: 30 
God's  peace !  I  would  not  lose  so  great  an  honor 
As  one  man  more,  methinks,  would  share  from 

me 
For  the  best  hope  I  have.     O,  do  not  wish  one 

more! 
Rather  proclaim  it,  Westmoreland,  through  my 

host. 
That  he  which  hath  no  stomach  to  this  fight. 
Let  him  depart ;  his  passport  shall  be  made 
And  crowns  for  convoy  put  into  his  purse ; 
We  would  not  die  in  that  man's  company 
That  fears  his  fellowship  to  die  with  us. 
This  day  is  call'd  the  feast  of  Crispian :  40 

He  that  outlives  this  day,  and  comes  safe  home. 
Will  stand  a  tip-toe  when  this  day  is  named. 
And  rouse  him  at  the  name  of  Crispian. 
He  that  shall  live  this  day,  and  see  old  age. 
Will  yearly  on  the  vigil  feast  his  neighbors. 
And  say,  'To-morrow  is  Saint  Crispian:' 

38.  Coleridge  suggests  that  this  line  should  read, — "We  should 
not  live  in  that  man's  company";  thus  making  a  natural  antithesis 
to  die  in  the  next  line. — H.  N.  H. 

39.  "his  fellowship  to  die  with  us";  to  be  our  comrade  in  death. — 
C.  H.  H. 

40.  "the  feast  of  Crispian"  falls  upon  the  25th  October. — I.  G. 
44.  "He   that  shall  live   this  day,  and  see";   Pope's   reading;   Ff., 

"He  that  shall  see  this  day  and  live";  Qq.,  "He  that  outlives  this  day 
and  sees." — I.  G. 

117 


Act  IV.  Sc.  iii.  THE  LIFE  OF 

Then  will  he  strip  his  sleeve  and  show  his  scars, 
And  say  'These  wounds  I  had  on  Crispin's  day.' 
Old  men  forget ;  yet  all  shall  be  forgot. 
But  he  '11  remember  with  advantages  ^0 

What  feats  he  did  that  day:  then  shall  our 

names. 
Familiar  in  his  mouth  as  household  words, 
Harry  the  king,  Bedford  and  Exeter, 
Warwick  and  Talbot,  Salisbury  and  Gloucester, 
Be  in  their  flowing  cups  freshly  remember'd. 
This  story  shall  the  good  man  teach  his  son ; 
And  Crispin  Crispian  shall  ne'er  go  by, 
From  this  day  to  the  ending  of  the  world, 
But  we  in  it  shall  be  remembered ; 
We  few,  we  happy  few,  we  band  of  brothers; 
For  he  to-day  that  sheds  his  blood  with  me      61 
Shall  be  my  brother ;  be  he  ne'er  so  vile. 
This  day  shall  gentle  his  condition : 

48.  Omitted  in  Ff.— I.  G. 

This  line,  if  not  strictly  necessary  to  the  sense,  is  indispensable  to 
the  picture.     It  was  rightly  restored  by  Malone. — C.  H.  H. 

5:3.  "his  mouth";  so  Ff. ;  Qq.,  "their  mouths";  Pope,  "their  mouth." 
—I.  G. 

Modern  editions,  except  Knight's  and  Verplanck's,  change  his 
mouth  into  their  mouths.  This  is  done,  no  doubt,  to  make  it  har- 
monize with  their  cups  just  below.  It  is  a  parlous  thing  to  meddle 
much  with  Shakespeare's  words.  Here  it  is  the  old  man  in  whose 
moutli  the  names  of  his  great  companions  are  to  be  as  household 
viords,  while  they  are  to  be  freshly  called  to  mind  by  the  friends  who 
are  feasting  with  him. — H.  N.  H. 

53.  "Bedford  and  Exeter,"  etc.  Of  these  "names,"  only  Gloucester 
and  Exeter  were  at  Agincourt.  Talbot,  not  elsewhere  mentioned  in 
this  connection,  is  no  doubt  the  hero  of  1  Hen.  VI. — C.  H.  H. 

56.  "the  good  man" ;  the  good  man,  head  of  the  family.  "How 
the  good  man  taught  his  son"  was  a  proverbial  title  for  maxims  of 
moralitj'^  and  edification. — C.   H.   H. 

63,  That  is,  shall  advance  him  to  the  rank  of  a  gentleman.     King 

118 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  IV.  Sc.  iii. 

And  gentlemen  in  England  now  a-bed 

Shall  think  themselves  accursed  they  were  not 

here, 
And   hold   their   manhoods   cheap    whiles   any 

speaks 
That  fought  with  us  upon  Saint  Crispin's  day. 

Re-enter  Salisbury. 

Sal.  My    sovereign    lord,    bestow    yourself    with 

speed : 

The   French   are  bravely  in  their  battles  set, 

And  will  with  all  expedience  charge  on  us.    70 

K.  Hen.  All  things  are  ready,  if  our  minds  be  so. 

West.  Perish  the   man  whose   mind  is  backward 

now! 
K.  Hen.  Thou  dost  not  wish  more  help  from  Eng- 
land, coz? 
West.  God's  will !  my  liege,  would  you  and  I  alone. 
Without  more  help,  could  fight  this  royal  battle! 
K.  Hen.  Why,  now  thou  hast  unwish'd  five  thou- 
sand men; 
Which  likes  me  better  than  to  wish  us  one. 
You  know  your  places :  God  be  with  you  all ! 

Tucket.     Enter  Mont  joy. 

Henry  V  inhibited  any  person,  but  such  as  had  a  right  by  inherit- 
ance or  grant,  from  bearing  coats  of  arms,  except  those  who  fought 
with  him  at  the  battle  of  Agincourt. — H.  N.  H. 

76.  By  wishing  only  thyself  and  me,  thou  hast  wished  five  thou- 
sand men  away.  The  poet,  inattentive  to  numbers,  puts  five  thou- 
sand, but  in  the  last  scene  the  French  are  said  to  be  full  three- 
score thousand,  which  Exeter  declares  to  be  five  to  one.  The  num- 
bers of  the  English  are  variously  stated;  Holinshed  makes  them 
fifteen  thousand,  others  but  nine  thousand. — H.  N.  H. 

119 


Act  IV.  Sc.  iii.  THE  LIFE  OF 

Mont.  Once  more  I  come  to  know  of  thee,  king 

Harrj^ 
If  for  thy  ransom  thou  wilt  now  compound,     80 
Before  thy  most  assured  overthrow: 
For  certainly  thou  art  so  near  the  gulf, 
Thou  needs  must  be   englutted.     Besides,   in 

mercy. 
The  constable  desires  thee  thou  wilt  mind 
Thy  followers  of  repentance ;  that  their  souls 
May  make  a  peaceful  and  sweet  retire 
From  off  these  fields,  where,  wretches,  their 

poor  bodies 
Must  lie  and  fester. 
K.  Hen.  Who  hath  sent  thee  now? 

Mont.  The  Constable  of  France. 
K.  Hen.  I  pray  thee,  bear  my  former  answer  back : 
Bid  them  achieve  me  and  then  sell  my  bones.  91 
Good  God!  why  should  they  mock  poor  fellows 

thus? 
The  man  that  once  did  sell  the  lion's  skin 
While  the  beast  lived,  was  killed  with  hunting 

him. 
A  many  of  our  bodies  shall  no  doubt 
Find  native  graves ;  upon  the  which,  I  trust. 
Shall  witness  live  in  brass  of  this  day's  work: 
And   those   that  leave  their   valiant   bones   in 

France, 
Dying  like  men,  though  buried  in  your  dung- 
hills, 
They  shall  be  famed;  for  there  the  sun  shall 

greet  them,  l^Q 

96.  "native";  i.  e.  English.— C.  H.  H. 

120 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  iv.  Sc.  m. 

And  draw  their  honors  reeking  up  to  heaven; 
Leaving  their  earthly  parts  to  choke  your  clime, 
The   smell   whereof   shall   breed   a   plague   in 

France. 
Mark  then  abounding  valor  in  our  English, 
That  being  dead,  like  to  the  bullet's  grazing. 
Break  out  into  a  second  course  of  mischief, 
Killing  in  relapse  of  mortality. 
Let  me  speak  proudly :  tell  the  constable 
We  are  but  warriors  for  the  working-day; 
Our  gayness  and  our  gilt  are  all  besmirch'd    HO 
With  rainy  marching  in  the  painful  field; 
There  's  not  a  piece  of  feather  in  our  host — 
Good  argument,  I  hope,  we  will  not  fly — 
And  time  hath  worn  us  into  slovenry : 
But,  by  the  mass,  our  hearts  are  in  the  trim ; 
And  my  poor  soldiers  tell  me,  yet  ere  night 
They  '11  be  in  fresher  robes,  or  they  will  pluck 
The  gay  new  coats  o'er  the  French  soldiers 

heads 
And  turn  them  out  of  service.     If  they   do 

this,—  119 

As,  if  God  please,  they  shall, — my  ransom  then 
Will  soon  be  levied.     Herald,   save  thou  thy 

labor ; 
Come  thou  no  more  for  ransom,  gentle  herald: 

102.  "clime";  air.— C.  H.  H. 

104.  "abounding";    used    with    a    consciousness    of    the     (false) 
etymology  from  "bound." — C.  H.  H. 

105.  "grazing";  glancing  off,  after  inflicting  a  wound. — C.  H.  H. 
107.  "in  relapse  of  mortality";  in   the   very  act  of  being  resolved 

into  their  mortal  elements;  as  they  decompose. — C.  H.  H. 


121 


!Act  IV.  Sc.  iv.  THE  LIFE  OF 

They  shall  have  none,  I  swear,  but  these  my 

joints; 
Which  if  they  have  as  I  will  leave  'em  them. 
Shall  yield  them  little,  tell  the  constable. 
Mont.  I  shall.  King  Harry.     And  so  fare  thee 
well: 
Thou  never  shalt  hear  herald  any  more.  \_Eccit. 
K.  Hen.  I  fear  thou  'It  once  more  come  again  for 
ransom. 

Enter  York. 

York.  My  lord,  most  humbly  on  my  knee  I  beg 

The  leading  of  the  vaward.  130 

K.  Hen.  Take    it,    brave    York.     Now,   soldiers, 

march  away : 

And  how  thou  pleasest,  God,  dispose  the  day! 

lEiVeunt. 

Scene  IV 

The  field  of  battle. 

Alarum.     Excursions.     Enter  Pistol ^  French 
Soldier  J  and  Boy. 

Pist.  Yield,  cur! 

Fr.  Sol.  Je  pense  que  vous  etes  gentilhomme  de 

bonne  qualite. 
Pist.  Qualtitie    calmie   custure    me!     Art   thou   a 

gentleman  ?  what  is  thy  name  ?  discuss. 

"Enter  York";  this  Edward  duke  of  York  has  already  appeared  in 
King  Richard  II  as  duke  of  Aumerle.  He  was  the  son  of  Edmund 
of  Langley,  the  duke  of  York  of  the  same  play^  who  was  the  fifth 
son  of  King  Edward  III.— H.  N.  H. 

4.  "Qualtitie  calmie  custure  me";  probably  Pistol  catches  the  last 

122 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  iv.  Sc  iv. 

Fr.  Sol.  O  Seigneur  Dieu! 

Pist.  O,  Sigiiieur  Dew  should  be  a  gentleman: 

Perpend  m}^  words,  O  Signieur  Dew,  and  mark ; 

O  Signieur  Dew,  thou  diest  on  point  of  fox, 

Except,  O  signieur,  thou  do  give  to  me  10 

Egregious  ransom. 
Fr.  Sol.  O,  prenez  misericorde!  ayez  pitie  de  moi! 
Pist.  JNIoy  shall  not  serve;  I  will  have  forty  moys; 

Or  I  will  fetch  thy  rim  out  at  thy  throat 

In  di'ops  of  crimson  blood. 
Fr,  Sol.  Est-il  impossible  d'echapper  la  force  de 

ton  bras? 

word  of  the  French  soldier's  speech,  repeats  it,  and  adds  the  re- 
frain of  a  popular  Irish  song,  "Calen,  O  custure  me"=i"colleen  oge 
astore,"  i.  e.  "young  girl,  ni}'  treasure."  The  popularity  of  the  song 
is  evidenced  by  the  following  heading  of  one  of  the  songs  in  Kol>in- 
son's  Ilanaful  of  Pleasant  Delights  {cp.  Arber's  Reprint,  p.  33) : 
"A  Sonet  of  a  Lover  in  the  praise  of  his  lady.  .  To  Calen  o  custure 
me;  sung  at  euerie  lines  end";  first  pointed  out  by  Malone. — I.  G. 

Bos  well  found  the  notes  in  Play  ford's  Musical  Companion;  but  it 
is  there  given  Callino,  castore  me.  We  prefer  for  obvious  reasons 
the  form  most  likely  to  have  fallen  under  the  Poet's  eye.  Mr.  Bos- 
well  says  the  words  mean  "I>ittle  girl  of  my  heart,  for  ever  and 
ever";  and  he  adds, — "They  have,  it  is  true,  no  great  connection 
with  the  poor  Frenchman's  supplications,  nor  were  they  meant  to 
have  any.  Pistol,  instead  of  attending  to  him,  contemptuously  hums 
a  tune." — H.  N.  H, 

9.  "Fox"  is  an  old  cant  word  for  a  sword;  it  was  apjilled  to  the 
old  I^'nglish  broadsword.  Thus  in  Ben  Jonson's  Bartholomew  Fair: 
"A  fellow  that  knows  nothing  but  a  basket  hilt  ai'd  an  old  fox  in  it." 
— H.  N.  H. 

14.  "rim";  Pistol  is  not  very  scrupulous  in  his  language:  he  u.ses 
rim  for  the  intestines  generally.  It  is  not  very  clear  what  our  ances- 
tors meant  by  it:  Bishop  Wilklns  defines  it  "the  membrane  of  the 
belly";  Florio  makes  it  tb.e  omentum,  "a  fat  pannicle,  caule,  sewet, 
rim^,  or  kell  wherein  the  bowels  are  lapt."  Holland,  in  his  Transla- 
tion of  Pliny,  several  times  mentions  "the  rim  of  the  paunch."  And 
in  Chapman's  Versio7i  of  the  Iliad:  "The  lance  his  target  tooke, 
and  in  his  bellies  rimme  was  sheath'd,  beneath  his  girdle-stead." — 
H.  N.  H. 

1^3 


Act  IV.  Sc.  iv.  THE  LIFE  OF 

Pist.  Brass,  cur! 

Thou  damned  and  luxurious  mountain  goat, 

OfFer'st  me  brass?  20 

F7\  Sol.  O  pardonnez  moi ! 
Pist.  Say'st  thou  me  so?  is  that  a  ton  of  moys? 

Come  hither,  boy :  ask  me  this  slave  in  French 

What  is  his  name. 
Boy.  Ecoutez:  comment  etes-vous  appele? 
Fr.  Sol.  Monsieur  le  Fer. 
Boy.  He  says  his  name  is  Master  Fer. 
Pist.  Master  Fer  I     I  '11  fer  him,  and  firk  him, 

and  ferret  him:  discuss  the  same  in  French 

unto  him.  30 

Boy.  I  do  not  know  the  French  for  fer,  and 

ferret,  and  firk. 
Pist.  Bid  him  prepare ;  for  I  will  cut  his  throat. 
Fr.  Sol.  Que  dit-il,  monsieur? 
Boy.  II  me  commande  de  vous  dire  que  vous 

faites  vous  pret;  car  ce  soldat  ici  est  dispose 

tout  a  cette  heure  de  couper  votre  gorge. 
Pist.  Owy,  cuppele  gorge,  permafoy. 

Peasant,   unless  thou   give  me  crowns,,  brave 
crowns ;  40 

Or  mangled  shalt  thou  be  by  this  my  sword. 
Fr.  Sol.  O,  je  vous  supplie,  pour  I'amour  de 

Dieu,  me  pardonner!     Je  suis  gentilhomme 

de  bonne  maison:  gardez  ma  vie,  et  je  vous 

donnerai  deux  cents  ecus. 
Pist.  What  are  his  words? 
Boy.  He  prays  you  to  save  his  life;  he  is  a 

gentleman  of  a   good  house;   and  for  his 

ransom  he  will  give  you  two  hundred  crowns. 
12-1.: 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  iv.  Sc.  iv. 

Pist.  Tell  him  my  fury  shall  abate,  and  I  50 

The  crowns  will  take. 

Fr.  Sol.  Petit  monsieur,  que  dit-il? 

Boy.  Encore  qu'il  est  contre  son  jurement  de 
pardonner  aucun  prisonnier,  neanmoins, 
pour  les  ecus  que  vous  I'avez  promis,  il  est 
content  de  vous  donner  la,  liberte,  le  fran- 
chisement. 

Fr.  Sol.  Sur  mes  genoux  je  vous  donne  mille 
remercimens;  et  je  m'estime  heureux  que  je 
suis  tombe  entre  les  mains  d'un  chevalier,  je    60 
pense,  le  plus  brave,  vaillant,  et  tres  dis- 
tingue seigneur  d'Angleterre. 

Pist.  Expound  unto  me,  boy. 

Boy.  He  gives  you,  upon  his  knees,  a  thousand 
thanks;  and  he  esteems  himself  happy  that 
he  hath  fallen  into  the  hands  of  one,  as  he 
thinks,  the  most  brave,  valorous,  and  thrice- 
worthy  signieur  of  England. 

Pist.  As  I  suck  blood,  I  will  some  mercy  show. 
Follow  me!  70 

Boy.  Suivez-vous  le  grand  capitain.  [^Exeunt 
Pistol^  and  French  Soldier. ~\  I  did  never 
know  so  full  a  voice  issue  from  so  empty  a 
heart:  but  the  saying  is  true,  'The  empty  ves- 
sel makes  the  greatest  sound.'  Bardolph 
and  Nym  had  ten  times  more  valor  than  this 
roaring  devil  i'  the  old  play,  that  every  one 

77.  "this  roaring  devil  V  the  old  ploy";  alluding  to  the  standing 
character  of  the  Devil  in  the  Morality  plays. — I.  G. 

In  the  old  play  of  The  Taming  of  a  Shrew,  one  of  the  players 
says, — "My  lord,  we  must  have  a  little  vinegar  to  make  our  devil 
roar,"    Ho!  ho!  and  Ah!  ha!  seem  to  have  been  the  ejiclamations 


r^ 


3 


Act  IV.  Sc.  V.  THE  LIFE  OF 

may  pare  his  nails  with  a  wooden  dagger; 
and  they  are  both  hanged ;  and  so  would  this 
be,  if  he  durst  steal  any  thing  adventurously.  80 
I  must  stay  with  the  lackeys,  with  the  lug- 
gage of  our  camp:  the  French  might  have 
a  good  prey  of  us,  if  he  knew  of  it ;  for  there 
is  none  to  guard  it  but  boys.  lExit, 


Scene  V 

Another  part  of  the  field. 

Enter  Constable^  Orleans,  Bourbon,  Dauphin, 
and  Rambures, 

Con.  O  diable! 

Orl.  O  Seigneur!  le  jour  est  perdu,  tout  est 

perdu ! 
Dau.  Mort  de  ma  vie!  all  is  confounded,  all! 
Reproach  and  everlasting  shame 
Sits  mocking  in  our  plumes.     O  mechante  for- 
tune! 
Do  not  run  way.  \_A  short  alarum. 

constantly  given  to  the  devil,  who  is,  in  the  old  mysteries,  as  turbulent 
and  vainglorious  as  Pistol.  The  Vice  or  fool,  among  other  indigni- 
ties, used  to  threaten  to  pare  his  nails  with  his  dagger  of  lath;  the 
devil  being  supposed  from  choice  to  keep  his  claws  long  and  sharp. 
— H.  N.  H. 

5.  "O  mechante  fortune!";  "Ludicrous  as  these  introductory 
scraps  of  French  appear,  so  instantly  followed  by  good  nervous 
mother  English,  yet  they  are  judicious,  and  produce  the  impression 
which  Shakespeare  intended — a  sudden  feeling  struck  at  once  on 
the  ears,  as  well  as  the  eyes,  of  the  audience,  that  'here  comes  the 
French,  the  baffled  French  braggarts!''  And  this  will  appear  still 
more  judicious,  when   we   reflect   on  the  scanty  apparatus  of  dis- 

126 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  IV.  Sc.  v. 

Con.  Why,  all  our  ranks  are  broke. 

Dau.  O  perdurable  shame !  let 's  stab  ourselves. 
Be  these  the  wretches  that  we  play'd  at  dice  for? 

Orl.  Is  this  the  king  we  sent  to  for  his  ransom? 

Bour.  Shame    and    eternal    shame,    nothing    but 
shame !  10 

Let  us  die  in  honor :  once  more  back  again ; 
And  he  that  will  not  follow  Bourbon  now, 
Let  him  go  hence,  and  with,  his  cap  in  hand. 
Like  a  base  pandar,  hold  the  chamber-door 
Whilst  by  a  slave,  no  gentler  than  my  dog, 
His  fairest  daughter  is  contaminated. 

Con.  Disorder,  that  hath  spoil'd  us,  friend  us  now! 
Let  us  on  heaps  go  offer  up  our  lives. 

Orl.  We  are  enow  yet  living  in  the  field 

To  smother  up  the  English  in  our  throngs,     20 
If  any  order  might  be  thought  upon. 

Bour.  The    devil    take   order   now !     I  '11    to   the 
throng : 
Let  life  be  short ;  else  shame  will  be  too  long. 

\_Eajeunt. 

iinguishing  dresses  in  Shakespeare's  tyring-room"    (Coleridge). — H. 
N.  H. 

11.  "Let  Its  die  in  honor;  once";  Knight's  emendation;  Ff.  1,  "Let 
ns  dye  in  once";  Ff.  3,  3,  4,  "Letf  ua  flye  in  once,"  &c.  Omitted  by 
Pope.— I.  G. 

The  folio  has  this  line  thus:  "Let  us  dye  in  once  more  backe 
againe";  where  it  is  evident,  from  the  defect  both  of  sense  and  of 
meter,  that  a  word  has  dropped  out  after  in.  Honor  is  taken  from 
the  quarto,  where  is  found, — "Lets  dye  with  honor."  Malone  sup- 
plied fight,  Theobald  instant;  no  one  till  Knight  having  resorted  to 
the  quarto,  whither  all  manifestly  should  have  gone. — H.  N.  H. 

15.  That  is,  who  has  no  more  gentility. — H.  N.  H. 

18.  "our  lives";  Steevens  adds  from  Qq.,  "Unto  these  English,  or 
else  die  with  fame";  Vaughan  conj.  "Unto  these  English,  or  else  die 
with  shame." — I.  G. 

127 


Act  IV.  Sc.  vi.  THE  LIFE  OF 


Scene  VI 

Another  part  of  the  field. 

Alarum.    Enter  King  Henry  and  forces, 
Exeter,  and  others. 

K,  Hen.  Well  have  we  done,  thrice  valiant  countrj^- 
men: 
But  all 's  not  done ;  yet  keep  the  French  the 
field. 

Exe.  The  Duke  of  York  commends  him  to  your 
majesty. 

K.  Hen.  Lives  he,  good  uncle?  thrice  within  this 
hour 
I  saw  him  down;  thrice  up  again,  and  fighting; 
From  helmet  to  the  spur  all  blood  he  was. 

Exe.  In  which  array,  brave  soldier,  doth  he  lie. 
Larding  the  plain ;  and  by  his  bloody  side. 
Yoke-fellow  to  his  honor-owing  wounds, 
The  noble  Earl  of  Suffolk  also  lies.  10 

Suffolk  first  died:  and  York,  all  haggled  over. 
Comes  to  him,  where  in  gore  he  lay  insteep'd. 
And  takes  him  by  the  beard;  kisses  the  gashes 
That  bloodily  did  yawn  upon  his  face; 
And  cries  aloud  'Tarry,  dear  cousin  Suffolk! 
My  soul  shall  thine  keep  company  to  heaven; 
Tarry,  sweet  soul,  for  mine,  then  fly  abreast, 
As  in  this  glorious  and  well-foughten  field 
We  kept  together  in  our  chivalry!' 
Upon  these  words  I  came  and  cheer'd  him  up :  20 
He  smiled  me  in  the  face,  raught  me  his  hand, 
128 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  iv.  Sc.  vii. 

And,  with  a  feeble  gripe,  says  'Dear  my  lord. 

Commend  my  service  to  my  sovereign.' 

So  did  he  turn,  and  over  Suffolk's  neck 

He  threw  his  wounded  arm  and  kiss'd  his  lips; 

And  so  espoused  to  death,  with  blood  he  seal'd 

A  testament  of  noble-ending  love. 

The  pretty  and  sweet  manner  of  it  forced 

Those  waters  from  me  which  I  would  have 

stopp'd; 
But  I  had  not  so  much  of  man  in  me,  30 

And  all  my  mother  came  into  mine  eyes 
And  gave  me  up  to  tears. 
K,  Hen.  I  blame  you  not; 

For,  hearing  this,  I  must  perforce  compound 
With  mistful  eyes,  or  they  will  issue  too. 

\_Alarum. 
But,  hark  I  what  new  alarum  is  this  same  ? 
The  French  have  reinforced  their  scatter'd  men  : 
Then  every  soldier  kill  his  prisoners ; 
Give  the  word  through.  [Exeunt, 


Scene  VII 

^Another  part  of  the  field. 

Enter  Fluellen  and  Gower, 

Flu.  Kill  the  poys  and  the  luggage!  'tis  ex- 
pressly against  the  law  of  arms ;  'tis  as  arrant 

Sc.  7.  Holinshed  relates  that  some  six  hundred  French  horsemen, 
"being  the  first  that  fled,"  "hearing  that  the  English  tents  and 
pavilions  were  a  good  way  distant  from  the  army,  without  any  suffi- 
cient guard,  entered  the  camp,  slew  the  servants,  and  plundered  the 
treasure." — C.  H.  H. 

XVII-9  129 


Act  IV.  Sc.  viL  THE  LIFE  OF 

a  piece  of  knavery,  mark  you  now,  as  can  be 
offer't;  in  your  conscience,  now,  is  it  not? 

Gotv.  'Tis  certain  there  's  not  a  boy  left  alive; 
and  the  cowardly  rascals  that  ran  from  the 
battle  ha'  done  this  slaughter:  besides,  they 
have  burned  and  carried  away  all  that  was 
in  the  king's  tent;  wherefore  the  king,  most 
worthily,  hath  caused  every  soldier  to  cut  his  10 
prisoner's  throat.     O,  'tis  a  gallant  king! 

Flu.  Aye,  he  was  porn  at  JNIonmouth,  Captain 
Gower.  What  call  j^ou  the  town's  name 
where  Alexander  the  Pig  was  born? 

Gow.  Alexander  the  Great. 

Flu.  Why,  I  pray  you,  is  not  pig  great?  the 
pig,  or  the  great,  or  the  mighty,  or  the  huge, 

10,  "cut  his  prisoner's  throat";  this  matter  is  thus  related  by 
Holinshed:  "While  the  battell  thus  continued,  certeine  Frenchmen 
on  horsseback,  to  the  number  of  six  hundred,  which  were  the  first 
that  fled,  hearing  that  the  English  tents  and  pavillions  were  without 
anie  sufficient  gard,  entred  upon  the  king's  campe,  and  there  spoiled 
the  hails,  robbed  the  tents,  brake  up  chests,  and  carried  awaie 
caskets,  and  slue  such  servants  as  they  found  to  make  anie  re- 
sistance. But  when  the  outcrie  of  the  lackies  and  boies,  which  ran 
awaie  for  feare  of  the  Frenchmen,  came  to  the  king's  eares,  he, 
doubting  least  his  enemies  should  gather  togither  againe,  and  begin 
a  new  field,  and  mistrusting  further  that  the  prisoners  would  be 
an  aid  to  his  enemies,  or  the  verie  enemies  to  their  takers  in  deed, 
if  they  were  suffered  to  live,  contrarie  to  his  accustomed  gentleness, 
commanded  by  sound  of  trumpet,  that  everie  man,  upon  paine  of 
death,  should  incontinentlie  slaie  his  prisoner."  It  appears  after- 
Avards,  however,  that  the  king,  upon  finding  the  danger  was  not  so 
great  as  he  at  first  thought,  stopped  the  slaughter,  and  was  able  to 
save  a  great  number.  It  is  observable  that  the  king  gives  as  his 
reason  for  the  order,  that  he  expected  another  battle,  and  had  not 
men  enough  to  guard  one  army  and  fight  another.  Gower  here 
assigns  a  difi^erent  reason.  Holinshed  gives  both  reasons,  and  the 
Poet  chose  to  put  one  in  the  king's  mouth,  the  other  in  Gower's. — 
H.  N.  H. 

130 


KING  HENRY  V  ^Aa  iv.  Sc.  vii. 

or  the  magnanimous,  are  all  one  reckonings, 
saves  the  phrase  is  a  little  variations. 

Gow.  I  think  Alexander  the  Great  was  born  in    20 
JNIacedon:  his  father  was  called  Philip  of 
Macedon,  as  I  take  it. 

Flu.  I  think  it  is  in  Macedon  where  Alexander 
is  porn.  I  tell  you,  captain,  if  you  look  in 
the  maps  of  the  'orld,  I  warrant  you  sail 
find,  in  the  comparisons  between  Macedon 
and  Monmouth,  that  the  situations,  look  you 
is  both  alike.  There  is  a  river  in  Macedon; 
and  there  is  also  moreover  a  river  at  Mon- 
mouth: it  is  called  Wye  at  ^lonmouth;  but  30 
it  is  out  oi'  my  prains  what  is  the  name  of 
the  other  river;  but  'tis  all  one,  'tis  alike  as 
my  fingers  is  to  my  fingers,  and  there  is  sal- 
mons in  both.  If  you  mark  Alexander's  life 
well,  Harry  of  Monmouth's  life  is  come 
after  it  indifferent  well ;  for  there  is  figures 
in  all  things.  Alexander,  God  knows,  and 
you  know,  in  his  rages,  and  his  furies,  and  his 
wraths,  and  his  cholers,  and  his  moods,  and 
his  displeasures,  and  his  indignations,  and  40 
also  being  a  little  intoxicates  in  his  prains, 
did,  in  his  ales  and  his  angers  look  you,  kill 
his  best  friend,  Cleitus. 

Gow.  Our  king  is  not  like  him  in  that:  he  never 
killed  any  of  his  friends. 

Flu.  It  is  not  well  done,  mark  you  now,  to  take 
the  tales  out  of  my  mouth,  ere  it  is  made  and 
finished.     I   speak  but  in  the  figures  and 

3-?.  "alike";  so  Ff. ;  Rowe  reads  "as  like." — I.  G. 
131 


Act  IV.  Sc.  vii.  THE  LIFE  OF 


50 


comparisons  of  it:  as  Alexander  killed  his 
friend  Cleitus,  being  in  his  ales  and  his 
cups ;  so  also  Harry  Monmouth,  being  in  his 
right  wits  and  his  good  judgments,  turned 
away  the  fat  knight  with  the  great-belly 
doublet:  he  was  full  of  jests,  and  gipes,  and 
knaveries,  and  mocks;  I  have  forgot  his 
name. 

Gow.  Sir  John  Falstaff . 

Flu.  That  is  he :  I  '11  tell  you  there  is  good  men 
porn  at  Monmouth. 

Gow.  Here  comes  his  majesty.  60 

Alarum.    Enter  King  Henry  and  forces; 
Warwick,  Gloucester,  Exeter,  and  others. 

K.  Hen.  I  was  not  angry  since  I  came  to  France 
Until  this  instant.     Take  a  trumpet,  herald; 
Ride  thou  unto  the  horsemen  on  yon  hill: 
If  they  will  fight  with  us,  bid  them  come  down, 
Or  void  the  field;  they  do  offend  our  sight: 
If  they  '11  do  neither,  we  will  come  to  them, 
And  make  them  skirr  away,  as  swift  as  stones 
Enforced  from  the  old  Assyrian  shngs: 
Besides,  we  '11  cut  the  throats  of  those  we  have. 
And  not  a  man  of  them  that  we  shall  take     '^^ 
Shall  taste  our  mercy.     Go  and  tell  them  so. 

47.  "made";  Capell,  following  Qq.,  reads  "made  an  end." — I.  G. 

53.  "the  fat  knight,"  etc.;  Johnson  observes  that  this  is  the  last 
time  Falstaff  can  make  sport.  The  Poet  was  loath  to  part  with  him, 
and  has  continued  his  memory  as  long  as  herCQuld. — H.  N.  H. 

68.  "Assyrian  slings";  Theobald  compared  Judith  ix.  7,  and  de- 
fended the  reading  against  Warburton's  proposed  "Balearian" 
(afterwards  withdrawn). — I.  G. 

182 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  iv.  Sc.  vii. 

Enter  Mont  joy, 

Exe,  Here  comes  the  herald  of  the  French,  my 
hege. 

Glou.  His  eyes  are  humbler  than  they  used  to  be. 

K.    Hen.  How    now!    what    means    this,    herald? 
know'st  thou  not 
That  I  have  fined  these  bones  of  mine  for  ran- 
som? 
Comest  thou  again  for  ransom? 

Mont.  No,  great  king: 

I  come  to  thee  for  charitable  license, 
That  we  may  wander  o'er  this  bloody  field 
To  book  our  dead,  and  then  to  bury  them; 
To  sort  our  nobles  from  our  common  men.        80 
For  many  of  our  princes — woe  the  while ! — 
Lie  drown'd  and  soak'd  in  mercenary  blood ; 
So  do  our  vulgar  drench  their  peasant  limbs 
In  blood  of  princes ;  and  their  wounded  steeds 
Fret  fetlock  deep  in  gore,  and  with  wild  rage 
Yerk  out  their  armed  heels  at  their  dead  masters, 
Killing  them  twice.     O,  give  us  leave,  great 

king, 
To  view  the  field  in  safety  and  dispose 
Of  their  dead  bodies! 

K.  Hen.  I  tell  thee  truly,  herald, 

I  know  not  if  the  day  be  ours  or  no;  90 

For  yet  a  many  of  your  horsemen  peer 

74.  "what  means  this,  herald?";  Steevens'  reading;  F.  1,  "what 
meanes  this  herald?";  F.  2,  3,  4,  "what  means  their  herald";  Hanmer 
conj.  "what  mean'st  thou,  herald?" — I.  G. 

75.  "fined";  agreed  to  pay  as  a  fine. — C.  H.  H. 

84.  "their  wounded  steeds";  Ff.  "with,"  corrected  by  Malone.  The 
Quartos  omit  the  line. — I.  G. 

133 


Act  IV.  Sc.  vii.  THE  LIFE  OF, 

And  gallop  o'er  the  field. 

Mont.  The  day  is  yours. 

K.  Hen.  Praised  be  God,  and  not  our  strength, 
for  it! 
What  is  this  castle  call'd  that  stands  hard  by? 

Mont.  They  call  it  Agincourt. 

K.  Hen.  Then  call  we  this  the  field  of  Agincourt, 
Fought  on  the  day  of  Crispin  Crispianus. 

Flu.  Your   grandfather   of   famous   memory, 
an  't  please  your  majesty,  and  your  great- 
uncle  Edward  the  Plack  Prince  of  Wales,  as  100 
I  have  read  in  the  chronicles,  fought  a  most 
prave  pattle  here  in  France. 

K.  Hen.  They  did,  Fluellen. 

Flu.  Your  majesty  says  very  true :  if  your  maj- 
esties is  remembered  of  it,  the  Welshmen  did 
good  service  in  a  garden  where  leeks  did 
grow,  wearing  leeks  in  their  Monmouth 
caps;  which,  your  majesty  know,  to  this  hour 
is  an  honorable  badge  of  the  service;  and  I 
do  believe  your  majesty  takes  no  scorn  to  HO 
wear  the  leek  upon  Saint  Tavy's  day. 

K.  Hen.  I  wear  it  for  a  memorable  honor; 
For  I  am  Welsh,  you  know,  good  country- 
man. 

Flu.  All  the  water  in  Wye  cannot  wash  your 
majesty's  Welsh  plood  out  of  your  pody,  I 

110.  "Monmouth  caps";  Fuller,  in  his  Worthies  of  Monmouthshire, 
says, — "The  best  caps  were  formerly  made  at  Monmouth,  where  the 
cappers'  chapel  doth  still  remain."  He  adds, — "If  at  this  day  the 
phrase  of  wearing  a  Monmouth  cap  be  taken  in  a  bad  acceptation,  I 
hope  the  inhabitants  of  that  town  will  endeavour  to  disprove  the 
occasion." — H.  N.  H. 

134. 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  iv.  Sc.  vii. 

can  tell  you  that:  God  pless  it  and  preserve 
it,  as  long  as  it  pleases  his  grace,  and  his 
majesty  too! 

K.  Hen.  Thanks,  good  my  countryman. 

Flu.  By  Jeshu,  I  am  your  majesty's  country-  12C 
man,  I  care  not  who  know  it;  I  will  confess 
it  to  all  the  'orld:  I  need  not  to  be  ashamed 
of  your  majesty,  praised  be  God,  so  long  as 
your  majesty  is  an  honest  man. 

K.  Hen.  God  keep  me  so!     Our  heralds  go  with 
him: 
Bring  me  just  notice  of  the  numbers  dead 
On     both    our    parts.     Call     yonder     fellow 

hither. 
[Points  to   Williams.    Exeunt  Heralds  with 
Montjoy. 

Exe.  Soldier,  you  must  come  to  the  king. 

K.  Hen.  Soldier,  why  wear  est  thou  that  glove 
in  thy  cap?  1^0 

Will.  An  't  please  your  majesty,  'tis  the  gage  of 
one  that  I  should  fight  withal,  if  he  be  alive. 

K.  Hen.  An  Englishman? 

Will.  An  't  please  your  majesty,  a  rascal  that 
swaggered  with  me  last  night;  who,  if  alive 
and  ever  dare  to  challenge  this  glove,  I  have 
sworn  to  take  him  a  box  o'  th'  ear :  or  if  I  can 
see  my  glove  in  his  cap,  which  he  swore,  as 
he  was  a  soldier,  he  would  wear  if  alive,  I 
will  strike  it  out  soundly.  140 

K.  Hen.  What  think  you.  Captain  Fluellen  ?  is 
it  fit  this  soldier  keep  his  oath? 


135 


Act  IV.  Sc.  vii.  THE  LIFE  OF 

Flu.  He  is  a  craven  and  a  villain  else,  an  't 
please  your  majesty,  in  my  conscience. 

K.  Hen.  It  may  be  his  enemy  is  a  gentleman 
of  great  sort,  quite  from  the  answer  of  his 
degree. 

Flu.  Though  he  be  as  good  a  gentleman  as  the 
devil  is,  as  Lucifer  and  Belzebub  himself,  it 
is  necessary,  look  your  grace,  that  he  keep  his  150 
vow  and  his  oath:  if  he  be  perjured,  see  you 
now,  his  reputation  is  as  arrant  a  villain  and 
a  Jacksauce,  as  ever  his  black  shoe  trod  upon 
God's  ground  and  his  earth,  in  my  con- 
science, la! 

K.  Hen.  Then  keep  thy  vow,  sirrah,  when  thou 
meetest  the  fellow. 

Will,  So  I  will,  my  liege,  as  I  live. 

K.  Hen.  Who  servest  thou  under? 

Will.  Under  Captain  Gower,  my  liege.  160 

Flu.  Gower  is  a  good  captain,  and  is  good 
knowledge  and  literatured  in  the  wars. 

K.  Hen.  Call  him  hither  to  me,  soldier. 

Will.  I  will,  my  liege.  [Eidt. 

K.  Hen.  Here,  Fluellen;  wear  thou  this  favor 
for  me  and  stick  it  in  thy  cap :  when  Alen9on 

146.  "quite  from  the  answer  of  his  degree";  removed  by  his  rank 
from  all  possibility  of  answering  the  challenge  of  a  man  of  Wil- 
liams' station. — C.  H.  H. 

148.  "as  good  a  gentleman  as  the  devil  is";  this  was  proverbial; 
cf.  Lear's  "The  prince  of  darkness  is  a  gentleman." — C.  H.  H. 

166.  "when  Alenqon  and  myself  were  down  together";  Henrv  was 
felled  to  the  ground  by  the  duke  of  Alen^on,  but  recovered  and 
slew  two  of  the  duke's  attendants.  Alen9on  was  afterwards  killed 
by  the  king's  guard,  contrary  to  Henry's  intention,  who  wished  to 
save  him. — H.  N.  H. 

186 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  iv.  Sc.  vii. 

and  myself  were  down  together,  I  plucked 
this  glove  from  his  helm;  if  any  man  chal- 
lenge this,  he  is  a  friend  to  Alen9on,  and  an 
enemy  to  our  person ;  if  thou  encounter  any  170 
such,  apprehend  him,  an  thou  dost  me  love. 

Flu.  Your  grace  doo's  me  as  great  honors  as 
can  be  desired  in  the  hearts  of  his  subjects: 
I  would  fain  see  the  man,  that  has  but  two 
legs,  that  shall  find  himself  aggriefed  at  this 
glove;  that  is  all;  but  I  would  fain  see  it 
once,  an't  please  God  of  his  grace  that  I 
might  see. 

K.  Hen.  Knowest  thou  Gower? 

Flu.  He  is  my  dear  friend,  an  't  please  you.       180 

K.  Hen.  Pray  thee,  go  seek  him,  and  bring 
him  to  my  tent. 

Flu.  I  will  fetch  him  [Ej^U. 

K.  Hen.  My  Lord  of  Warwick,  and  my  brother 
Gloucester, 
Follow  Fluellen  closely  at  the  heels: 
The    glove   which    I    have   given   him    for   a 

favor 
May  haply  purchase  him  a  box  o'  th'  ear ; 
It  is  the  soldier's ;  I  by  bargain  should 
Wear  it  myself.     Follow,  good  cousin  War- 
wick: 
If  that  the  soldier  strike  him,  as  I  judge        190 
By  his  blunt  bearing  he  will  keep  his  word, 
Some  sudden  mischief  may  arise  of  it; 
For  I  do  know  Fluellen  valiant. 
And,  touch' d  with  choler,  hot  as  gunpowder. 
And  quickly  will  return  an  injury: 
137 


Act  IV.  Sc.  viii.  THE  LIFE  OF 

Follow,    and   see  there   be   no   harm   between 

them. 
Go  you  with  me,  uncle  of  Exeter.  [Exeunt,  200 


Scene  VIII 

Before  King  Henery's  pavilion. 
Enter  Gower  and  Williams. 
Will.  I  warrant  it  is  to  knight  you,  captain. 
Enter  Fluellen. 

Flu.  God's  ^vill  and  his  pleasure,  captain,  I 
beseech  you  now,  come  apace  to  the  king: 
there  is  more  good  toward  you  peradventure 
than  is  in  your  knowledge  to  dream  of. 

Will.  Sir,  know  you  this  glove? 

Flu.  Know  the  glove!  I  know  the  glove  is  a 
glove. 

Will.  I  know  this ;  and  thus  I  challenge  it. 

[Strikes  him. 

Flu.  'Sblood!  an  arrant  traitor  as  any  is  in  the    10 
universal  world,  or  in  France,  or  in  England ! 

Gow.  How  now,  sir!  you  villain! 

Will.    Do  you  think  I  '11  be  forsworn? 

Flu.  Stand  away,  Captain  Gower;  I  will  give 
treason  his  payment  into  plows,  I  warrant 
you. 

Will.  I  am  no  traitor. 

Flu.  That 's  a  lie  in  thy  throat.    I  charge  you  in 

138 


30 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  IV.  Sc.  viii. 

his  majesty's  name,  apprehend  him:  he  's  a 
friend  of  the  Duke  Alen^on's.  20 

Enter  Warwick  and  Gloucester. 

War,  How  now,  how  now,  what 's  the  matter? 

Flu.  My  Lord  of  Warwick,  here  is — praised  be 
God  for  it! — a  most  contagious  treason  come 
to  hght,  look  you,  as  j^ou  shall  desire  in  a 
summer's  day.     Here  is  his  majesty. 

Enter  King  Henry  and  Exeter, 

K.  Hen.  How  now!  what's  the  matter? 

Flu.  My  liege,  here  is  a  villain  and  a  traitor, 
that,  look  your  grace,  has  struck  the  glove 
which  your  majesty  is  take  out  of  the 
helmet  of  Alen^on. 

Will.  My  liege,  this  was  my  glove;  here  is  the 
fellow  of  it;  and  he  that  I  gave  it  to  in 
change  promised  to  wear  it  in  his  cap:  I 
promised  to  strike  him,  if  he  did :  I  met  this 
man  with  my  glove  in  his  cap,  and  I  have 
been  as  good  as  my  word. 

Flu.  Your  majesty  hear  now,  saving  your 
majesty's  manhood,  what  an  arrant,  rascally, 
beggarly,  lousy  knave  it  is:  I  hope  your 
majesty  is  pear  me  testimony  and  witness,  40 
and  will  avouchment,  that  this  is  the  glove  of 
Alen9on,  that  your  majesty  is  give  me;  in 
your  conscience,  now. 

K.  Hen.  Give  me  thy  glove,  soldier :  look,  here 
is  the  fellow  of  it. 

23.  "contagious";  for  "outrageous." — C.  H.  H. 
139 


Act  IV.  Sc.  viii.  THE  LIFE  OP 

'Twas  I,  indeed,  thou  promised'st  to  strike; 
And  thou  hast  given  me  most  bitter  terms. 

Flu.  And  please  your  majesty,  let  his  neck 
answer  for  it,  if  there  is  any  martial  law  in 
the  world.  50 

K.  Hen.  How  canst  thou  make  me  satisfac- 
tion? 

Will.  All  oiFenses,  my  lord,  come  from  the 
heart :  never  came  any  from  mine  that  might 
oiFend  your  majesty. 

K.  Hen.  It  was  ourself  thou  didst  abuse. 

Will.  Your  majesty  came  not  like  yourself:  you 
appeared  to  me  but  as  a  common  man ;  wit- 
ness the  night,  your  garments,  your  lowli- 
ness ;  and  what  your  highness  suffered  under  60 
that  shape,  I  beseech  you  to  take  it  for  your 
own  fault  and  not  mine:  for  had  you  been 
as  I  took  you  for,  I  made  no  offense ;  there- 
fore, I  beseech  your  highness,  pardon  me. 

K.  Hen.  Here,  uncle  Exeter,  fill  this  glove  with 
crowns. 
And  give  it  to  this  fellow.     Keep  it,  fellow ; 
And  wear  it  for  an  honor  in  thy  cap 
Till  I  do  challenge  it.     Give  him  the  crowns: 
And,  captain,  you  must  needs  be  friends  with 
him. 

Flu.  By  this  day  and  this  light,  the  fellow  has  '70 
mettle  enough  in  his  belly.  Hold,  there  is 
twelve  pence  for  you;  and  I  pray  you  to 
serve  God,  and  keep  you  out  of  prawls,  and 
prabbles,  and  quarrels,  and  dissensions,  and, 
I  warrant  you,  it  is  the  better  for  you. 

liO 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  iv.  Sc.  viii. 

Will.  I  will  none  of  your  money. 

Flu,  It  is  with  a  good  will ;  I  can  tell  you,  it  will 
serve  you  to  mend  your  shoes:  come,  where- 
fore should  you  be  so  pashful?  your  shoes  is 
not  so  good:  'tis  a  good  silling,  I  warrant   80 
you,  or  I  will  change  it. 

Enter'  nil  English  Herald. 

K.  Hen.  Now,  herald,  are  the  dead  number'd? 

Her,  Here  is  the  number  of  the  slaughter'd 
French. 

K,  Hen.  What   prisoners   of   good    sort    are 
taken,  uncle? 

Ea^e.  Charles  Duke  of  Orleans;  nephew  to  the  king ; 
John  Duke  of  Bourbon,  and  Lord  Bouciqualt: 
Of  other  lords  and  barons,  knights  and  squires, 
Full  fifteen  hundred,  besides  common:  men.    90 

K.  Hen.  This  note  doth  tell  me  of  ten  thousand 
French 
That  in  the  field  lie  slain:  of  princes,  in  this 

number. 
And  nobles  bearing  banners,  there  lie  dead 
One  hundred  twenty  six :  added  to  these. 
Of  knights,  esquires,  and  gallant  gentlemen. 
Eight  thousand  and  four  hundred;  of  the  which, 
Five    hundred    were    but    yesterday    dubb'd 

knights : 
So  that,  in  these  ten  thousand  they  have  lost. 
There  are  but  sixteen  hundred  mercenaries; 

87.  The  catalogue  closely   follows    Holinshed   both   in   names   and 
numbers. — C.  H.  H. 


141 


Act  IV  Sc.  viii.  THE  LIFE  OF 

The  rest  are  princes,  barons,   lords,  knights, 
squires,  100 

And  gentlemen  of  blood  and  quality. 
The  names  of  those  their  nobles  that  lie  dead: 
Charles  Delabreth,  high  constable  of  France; 
Jaques  of  Chatillon,  admiral  of  France; 
The  master  of  the  cross-bows,  Lord  Rambures ; 
Great  master  of  France,  the  brave  Sir  Guichard 

Dolphin, 
John   Duke   of  Alen9on,   Anthony   Duke   of 

Brabant, 
The  brother  to  the  Duke  of  Burgundy, 
And  Edward  Duke  of  Bar :  of  lusty  earls,     109 
Grandpre  and  Roussi,  Fauconberg  and  Foix, 
Beaumont  and  Marie,  Vaudemont  and  Lestrale. 
Here  was  a  royal  fellowship  of  death! 
Where  is  the  number  of  our  English  dead? 

[HeJ'ald  shows  him  another  paper. 
Edward  the  Duke  of  York,  the  Earl  of  Suffolk, 
Sir  Richard  Ketly,  Davy  Gam,  esquire: 
None  else  of  name ;  and  of  all  other  men 
But  five  and  twenty.    O  God,  thy  arm  was  here ; 
And  not  to  us,  but  to  thy  arm  alone. 
Ascribe  we  all !     When,  without  stratagem. 
But  in  plain  shock  and  even  play  of  battle,   120 
Was  ever  known  so  great  and  little  loss 
On  one  part  and  on  th'  other?     Take  it,  God, 
For  it  is  none  but  thine ! 

105.  "cross-boii's";  cross-bow  men. — C.  H.  H. 

117.  "But  five  and  tirenty";  Holinshed  gives  this  as  the  report  of 
"some";  adding,  "but  other  writers  of  greater  credit  aflBrm,  that 
there  were  slain  above  five  or  six  hundred  persons." — C.  H.  H. 

142 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  IV.  Sc.  viii. 

Exe.  'Tis  wonderful ! 

K,  Hen.  Come,  go  we  in  procession  to  the  village : 
And  be  it  death  proclaimed  through  our  host 
To  boast  of  this  or  take  that  praise  from  God 
Which  is  his  only. 

Flu.  Is  it  not  lawful,  an  't  please  your  majesty, 
to  tell  how  many  is  killed  ?  13^0 

K.  Hen.  Yes,  captain;  but  with  this  acknowledg- 
ment, 
That  God  fought  for  us. 

Flu.  Yes,  my  conscience,  he  did  us  great  good. 

K.  Hen.  Do  we  all  holy  rites; 

Let  there  be  sung  '  Non  nobis  '  and  '  Te  Deum ;' 
The  dead  with  charity  enclosed  in  clay : 
And  then  to  Calais ;  and  to  England  then ; 
Where  ne'er  from  France  arrived  more  happy 
men.  [Eoceunt. 

130.  "The  king,  when  he  saw  no  appearance  of  enemies,  caused 
the  retreit  to  be  blowen;  and,  gathering  his  army  togither,  gave 
thanks  to  Almightie  God  for  so  happie  a  victorie,  causing  his  prelats 
and  chapleins  to  sing  this  psahne, — In  exitii  Israel  de  Egypto;  and 
commanded  every  man  to  kneele  downe  on  the  ground  at  this  verse, 
— Xon  nobis,  Domine,  non  nobis,  sed  nomini  tuo  da  gloriam.  Which 
doone,  he  caused  Te  Deum  with  certeine  anthems  to  be  soong,  giv- 
ing laud  and  praise  to  God,  without  boasting  of  his  owne  force  or 
anie  humane  power"  (Holinshed). — H.  N.  H. 


143 


Prologue  THE  LIFE  OE 


ACT  FIFTH 
PROLOGUE 

Enter  Chorus. 

Chor.  Vouchsafe  to  those  that  have  not  read  the 

story, 
That  I  may  prompt  them:  and  of  such  as  have, 
I  humbly  pray  them  to  admit  the  excuse 
Of  time,  of  numbers  and  due  course  of  things, 
Which  cannot  in  their  huge  and  proper  hf  e 
Be  here  presented.     Now  we  bear  the  king 
Toward  Calais :  grant  him  there ;  there  seen, 
Heave  him  away  upon  your  winged  thoughts 
Athwart  the  sea.     Behold,  the  English  beach 
Pales  in  the  flood  with  men,  with  Avives  and  boys. 
Whose  shouts  and  claps  out-voice  the  deep- 

mouth'd  sea,  H 

Which  like  a  mighty  whiffler  'fore  the  king 
Seems  to  prepare  his  way :  so  let  him  land. 
And  solemnly  see  him  set  on  to  London. 
So  swift  a  pace  hath  thought,  that  even  now 
You  may  imagine  him  upon  Blackheath ; 
Where  that  his  lords  desire  him  to  have  borne 
His  bruised  helmet  and  his  bended  sword 
Before  him  through  the  city :  he  forbids  it, 
Being   free   from   vainness   and   self -glorious 

pride ;  20 

144 


KING   HENRY   V  Prologue 

Giving  full  trophy,  signal  and  ostent 

Quite  from  himself  to  God.     But  now  behold, 

In    the    quick    forge    and    working-house    of 

thought. 
How  London  doth  pour  out  her  citizens ! 
The  mayor  and  all  his  brethren  in  best  sort. 
Like  to  the  senators  of  the  antique  Rome, 
With  the  plebeians  swarming  at  their  heels, 
Go  forth  and  fetch  their  conquering  Caesar  in : 
As,  by  a  lower  but  loving  likelihood, 
Were  now  the  general  of  our  gracious  empress, 
As  in  good  time  he  may,  from  Ireland  coming, 
Bringing  rebellion  broached  on  his  sword,        32 
How  many  would  the  peaceful  city  quit. 
To  welcome  him!  much  more,  and  much  more 

cause. 
Did  they  this  Harry.     Now  in  London  place 

him; 
As  yet  the  lamentation  of  the  French 
Invites  the  King  of  England's  stay  at  home ; 
The  emperor's  coming  in  behalf  of  France, 

29.  "by  a  lower  but  loving  likelihood" ;  to  compare  Henry's  tri- 
umphal entry  with  another,  less  momentous,  but  not  less  welcome. — 
C.  H.  H. 

30-35.  The  allusion  is  to  Robert  Devereux,  Earl  of  Essex,  who 
was  sent  to  Ireland  in  1599  to  suppress  Tyrone's  rebellion;  he  left 
London  on  March  27,  and  returned  on  September  28  (v.  Preface). — 
I.  G. 

38.  "The  emperor's  coming";  i.  e.  "the  emperor  is  coming,"  or 
(better)  "the  emperor's  coming,"  parallel  to  "the  King  of  England's 
stay  at  home."  The  line  refers  to  the  visit  of  Sigismund,  Emperor 
of  Germany,  May  1,  1416.  Malone  supposed  that  a  line  had  dropped 
out  before  "The  Emperor"  &c. ;  Capell  re-wrote  the  })assage.  It 
seems,  however,  that  if  instead  of  a  semi-colon,  a  comma  is  placed 
after  "at  home,"  the  lines  are  perfectly  intelligible  as  they  stand. — 
I.  G. 

XVII— 10  14,5 


Act  V.  Sc.  i.  THE  LIFE  OF 

To  order  peace  between  them ;  and  omit 
All  the  occurrences,  whatever  chanced,  40 

Till  Harry's  back  return  again  to  France: 
There  must  we  bring  him;   and  myself  have 

play'd 
The  interim,  by  remembering  you  'tis  past. 
Then    brook   abridgment,    and   your   eves   ad- 
vance, 
After  your  thoughts,  straight  back  again  to 
France.  \_Emt. 


Scene  I 

France.     The  English  camp. 
Enter  Fluellen  and  Gower. 

Gow.  Nay,  that 's  right ;  but  why  wear  you  your 
leek  to-day?     Saint  Davy's  day  is  past. 

Flu.  There  is  occasions  and  causes  why  and 
wherefore  in  all  things :  I  will  tell  you,  asse 
my  friend.  Captain  Gower:  the  rascally, 
scauld,  beggarly,  lousy,  pragging  knave, 
Pistol,  which  you  and  yourself  and  all  the 
world  know  to  be  no  petter  than  a  fellow, 
look  you  now,  of  no  merits,  he  is  come  to  me 
and  prings  me  pread  and  salt  yesterday,  look  10 
you,  and  bid  me  eat  my  leek :  it  was  in  a  place 
where  I  could  not  breed  no  contention  with 
him ;  but  I  will  be  so  bold  as  to  wear  it  in  my 
cap  till  I  see  him  once  again,  and  then  I  will 
tell  him  a  little  piece  of  my  desires. 

G.  "scauld";  scabby.— C.  H.  H. 

146 


20 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  v.  Sc.  i. 

Enter  Pistol. 

Gow.  Why,  here  he  comes,  swelling  like  a  tur- 
keycock. 

Flu.  'Tis  no  matter  for  his  swellings  nor  his 
turkeycocks.  God  pless  you,  Aunchient 
Pistol!  you  scurvy,  lousy  knave,  God  pless 
you. 

Pist.  Ha!  art  thou  bedlam?  dost  thou  thirst,  base 
Trojan, 
To  have  me  fold  up  Parca's  fatal  web? 
Hence !  I  am  qualmish  at  the  smell  of  leek. 

Flu.  I  peseech  you  heartily,  scurvy,  lousy 
knave,  at  my  desires,  and  my  requests,  and 
my  petitions,  to  eat,  look  you,  this  leek:  be- 
cause, look  you,  you  do  not  love  it,  nor  your 
affections  and  your  appetites  and  your  dis- 
gestions  doo's  not  agree  with  it,  I  would  30 
desire  you  to  eat  it. 

Pist.  Not  for  Cadwallader  and  all  his  goats. 

Flu.  There  is  one  goat  for  you.  [Strikes  hi7n.'\ 
Will  3^ou  be  so  good,  scauld  knave,  as  eat  it  ? 

Pist.  Base  Trojan,  thou  shalt  die. 

Flu.  You  say  very  true,  scauld  knave,  when 
God's  will  is :  I  will  desire  you  to  live  in  the 
mean  time,  and  eat  your  victuals :  come,  there 
is  sauce  for  it.  [Strikes  /^^w.]  You  called  me 
yesterday  mountain-squire;  but  I  will  make 
you  to-day  a  squire  of  low  degree.     I  pray 


40 


35.  "Trojaii";  knave.— C.  H.  H. 

41.  "a  squire   of  low  derp-ee";  alhuling  to  the  burlesque  romance 
so  entitled.— C.  H.  H, 

147 


Act  V.  Sc.  i.  THE  LIFE  OF 

you,  fall  to:  if  you  can  mock  a  leek,  you 

can  eat  a  leek. 
Gow.  Enough,   captain:   you  have  astonished 

him. 
Flu.  I  say,  I  will  make  him  eat  some  part  of  my 

leek,  or  I  will  peat  his  pate  four  days.     Bite, 

I  pray  you,  it  is  good  for  your  green  wound 

and  your  ploody  coxcomb. 
Pist.  Must  I  bite?  50 

Flu.  Yes,  certainly,  and  out  of  doubt  and  out 

of  question  too,  and  ambiguities. 
Pist.  Hy  this  leek,  I  will  most  horribly  revenge : 

I  eat  and  eat,  I  swear — 
Flu.  Eat,  I  pray  you :  will  you  have  some  more 

sauce  to  your  leek?  there  is  not  enough  leek 

to  swear  by. 
Pist.  Quiet  thy  cudgel ;  thou  dost  see  I  eat. 
Flu.  JNIuch  good  do  you,  scauld  knave,  heartily. 

Nay,  pray  you,  throw  none  away ;  the  skin  is    60 

good  for  your  broken  coxcomb.     When  you 

take  occasions  to  see  leeks  hereafter  I  pray 

you,  mock  at  'em ;  that  is  all. 
Pist.  Good. 
Flu.  Aye,  leeks  is  good:  hold  you,  there  is  a 

groat  to  heal  your  pate. 
Pist.    Me  a  groat ! 
Flu.  Yes,  verily  and  in  truth,  you  shall  take  it ; 

or  I  have  another  leek  in  my  pocket,  which 

you  shall  eat.  70 

Pist.  I  take  thy  groat  in  earnest  of  revenge. 
Flu,  If  I  owe  you  any  thing,  I  will  pay  you  in 

44.  "astonished";  stunned. — H,  N.  H, 
148 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  v.  Sc.  i. 

cudgels :  you  shall  be  a  woodmonger,  and  buy 
nothing  of  me  but  cudgels.  God  b'  wi'  you, 
and  keep  you,  and  heal  your  pate,  \_Ea:it. 

Pist.  All  hell  shall  stir  for  this. 

Gow.  Go,  go;  you  are  a  counterfeit  cowardly 
knave.  Will  you  mock  at  an  ancient  tradi- 
tion, begun  upon  an  honorable  respect,  and 
worn  as  a  memorable  trophy  of  predeceased  80 
valor,  and  dare  not  avouch  in  your  deeds  any 
of  your  words?  I  have  seen  you  gleeking 
and  galling  at  this  gentleman  twice  or  thrice. 
You  thought,  because  he  could  not  speak 
English  in  the  native  garb,  he  could  not 
therefore  handle  an  English  cudgel:  you 
find  it  otherwise ;  and  henceforth  let  a  Welsh 
correction  teach  you  a  good  English  con- 
dition.    Fare  ye  well.  [Ecvit.      89 

Pist.  Doth  Fortune  play  the  huswife  with  me  now? 
News  have  I,  that  my  Doll  is  dead  i'  the  spital 
Of  malady  of  France; 
And  there  my  rendezvous  is  quite  cut  oiF. 
Old  I  do  wax ;  and  from  my  weary  limbs 
Honor  is  cudgeled.     Well,  bawd  I  '11  turn. 
And  something  lean  to  cutpurse  of  quick  hand. 
To  England  will  I  steal,  and  there  I  '11  steal : 
And  patches  will   I   get  unto  these   cudgel'd 

scars, 
And  swear  I  got  them  in  the  Gallia  wars.    100 

[Eant. 

91.  "Doll";  Capell,  "Nell";  which  is  probably  the  correct  reading, 
though  Shakespeare  may  himself  hav^  made  the  mistake. — I.  G. 
"Exit";  the  comic  scenes  of  these  plays  are  now  at  an  end,  and 

149 


Act  V.  Sc.  ii.  THE  LIFE  OF 


Scene  II 

France.     A  royal  palace. 

Enter ^  at  one  door.  King  Henry,  Exeter,  Bedford, 
Gloucester,  Warwick,  Westmoreland,  and 
other  Lords;  at  another,  the  French  King, 
Queen  Isabel,  the  Princess  Katharine,  Alice 
and  other  Ladies;  the  Duke  of  Burgundy, 
and  his  train. 

K.  Hen.  Peace  to  this  meeting,  wherefore  we  are 

met! 
Unto  our  brother  France,  and  to  our  sister, 
Health  and  fair  time  of  day;  joy  and  good 

wishes 
To  our  most  fair  and  princely  cousin  Katharine ; 
And,  as  a  branch  and  member  of  this  royalty, 
By  whom  this  great  assembly  is  contrived, 
We  do  salute  you,  Duke  of  Burgundy ; 
And,  princes  French,  and  peers,  health  to  you 

all! 

all  the  comic  personages  are  now  dismissed.  Falstaff  and  Mrs. 
Quickly  are  dead;  Nym  and  Bardolph  are  hanged;  Gadshill  was 
lost  immediately  after  the  robbery;  Poins  and  Peto  have  vanished 
since,  one  knows  not  how;  and  Pistol  is  now  beaten  into  obscurity. 
I  believe  every  reader  regrets  their  departure"  (Johnson). — H.  N.  H. 

Sc.  2.  The  scene  of  Henry's  betrothal,  according  to  Holinshed, 
was  "S.  Peter's  Church"  at  Troyes.— C.  H.  H. 

1,  That  is,  Peace,  for  which  we  are  here  met,  be  to  this  meeting. 
Here,  Johnson  thought,  the  chorus  should  have  been  prefixed,  and 
the  fifth  act  begin.— H.  N.  H. 

7.  "Burgundy";  Rowe's  emendation,  from  Qq.,  of  F.  1,  "Burgogne"; 
Ft.  2,  4,  "Burgoigne";  F.  3,  "Bargoigne." — I.  G. 

150 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  V.  Sc.  ii. 

Fr.  King.  Right  joyous  are  we  to  behold  your 
face, 
Most  worthy  brother  England ;  fairly  met :      10 
So  are  you,  princes  English,  every  one. 

Q.  Isa.  So  happy  be  the  issue,  brother  England, 
Of  this  good  day  and  of  this  gracious  meeting. 
As  we  are  now  glad  to  behold  your  eyes; 
Your  eyes,  which  hitherto  have  borne  in  them 
Against  the  French,  that  met  them  in  their  bent, 
The  fatal  balls  of  murdering  basilisks : 
The  venom  of  such  looks,  we  fairly  hope, 
Have  lost  their  quality,  and  that  this  day 
Shall  change  all  griefs  and  quarrels  into  love.  20 

K.  Hen.  To  cry  amen  to  that,  thus  we  appear. 

Q.  Isa.  You  English  princes  all,  I  do  salute  you. 

Bur.  My  duty  to  you  both,  on  equal  love, 

Great  Kings  of  France  and  England!     That  I 

have  labor'd. 
With  all  my  wits,  my  pains  and  strong  en- 
deavors. 
To  bring  your  most  imperial  majesties 
Unto  this  bar  and  royal  interview, 

11.  "So  are  you,  princes  English,  every  one";  Ff.  1,  2,  3,  "So  are 
you  princes  {English)  every  one";  F.  4,  "So  are  you  princes  (Eng- 
lish every  one)." — I.  G. 

13.  "England";  so  Ff.  2,  3,  4;  F.  1  reads  "Ireland."— I.  G. 

19.  "have";  the  plural  by  attraction  after  "looks." — C.  H,  H. 

27.  "bar";  that  is,  this  barrier,  this  place  of  congress.  The  chron- 
icles represent  a  former  interview  in  a  field  near  Melun,  with  a 
barre  or  barrier  of  separation  between  the  pavilions  of  the  French 
and  English;  but  the  treaty  was  then  broken  off.  It  was  now  re- 
newed at  Troyes,  but  the  scene  of  conference  was  St.  Peter's  church 
in  that  town,  a  place  inconvenient  for  Shakespeare's  action;  his 
editors  have  therefore  laid  it  in  a  palace. — H.  N.  H. 


151 


Act  V.  Sc.  ii.  THE  LIFE  OF 

Your  mightiness  on  both  parts  best  can  witness. 
Since  then  my  office  hath  so  far  prevail' d 
That,  face  to  face  and  royal  eye  to  eye,  30 

You  have  congreeted,  let  it  not  disgrace  me. 
If  I  demand,  before  this  royal  view. 
What  rub  or  what  impediment  there  is, 
Why  that  the  naked,  poor  and  mangled  Peace, 
Dear  nurse  of  arts,  plenties  and  joyful  births. 
Should  not  in  this  best  garden  of  the  world. 
Our  fertile  France,  put  up  her  lovely  visage? 
Alas,   she   hath   from   France   too   long   been 

chased. 
And  all  her  husbandry  doth  lie  on  heaps, 
Corrupting  in  its  own  fertility.  40 

Her  vine,  the  merry  cheerer  of  the  heart, 
Unpruned  dies ;  her  hedges  even-pleach'd. 
Like  prisoners  wildly  overgrown  with  hair, 
Put  forth  disorder'd  twigs;  her  fallow  leas 
The  darnel,  hemlock  and  rank  fumitory 
Doth  root  upon,  while  that  the  coulter  rusts 
That  should  deracinate  such  savagery ; 
The  even  mead,  that  erst  brought  sweetly  forth 
The  freckled  cowslip,  burnet  and  green  clover, 
Wanting  the  scythe,  all  uncorrected,  rank,     50 
Conceives  by  idleness,  and  nothing  teems 
But  hateful  docks,  rough  thistles,  kecksies,  burs, 
Losing  both  beauty  and  utility. 
And    as    our    vineyards,    fallows,    meads    and 

hedges. 
Defective  in  their  natures,  grow  to  wildness, 

50.  "all";  Rowe's  reading;  Ff.  "withall."—\.  G. 
55.  "natures";  it  has  been  proposed  to  read  nurtures,  that  is,  cul- 

152 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  v.  Sc.  ii. 

Even  so  our  houses  and  ourselves  and  children 
Have  lost,  or  do  not  learn  for  want  of  time, 
The  sciences  that  should  become  our  country ; 
But  grow  like  savages, — as  soldiers  will 
That  nothing  do  but  meditate  on  blood, —        60 
To  swearing  and  stern  looks,  diffused  attire 
And  every  thing  that  seems  unnatural. 
Which  to  reduce  into  our  former  favor 
You  are  assembled:  and  my  speech  entreats 
That  I  may  know  the  let,  why  gentle  Peace 
Should  not  expel  these  inconveniences 
And  bless  us  with  her  former  qualities. 
K.  Hen.  If,  Duke  of  Burgundy,  you  would  the 

peace. 
Whose  want  gives  growth  to  the  imperfections 
Which   you   have   cited,   you   must   buy   that 

peace  "^^ 

With  full  accord  to  all  our  just  demands; 
Whose  tenores  and  particular  effects 
You  have  enscheduled  briefly  in  your  hands. 
Bur.  The  king  hath  heard  them;  to  the  which  as 

yet 
There  is  no  answer  made. 
K.  Hen.  Well  then  the  peace. 

Which  you  before  so  urged,  lies  in  his  answer. 
Fr.  King.  I  have  but  with  a  cursorary  eye 

O'erglanced  the  articles:  pleaseth  your  grace 

ture.  But  Steevens  concurs  in  Upton's  opinion,  that  change  is  un- 
necessary. They  were  not  defective  in  their  crescive  nature,  for 
they  grew  to  wildness;  but  they  were  defective  in  their  proper  and 
favorable  nature,  which  was  to  bring  forth  food  for  man. — H.  N.  H. 
61.  "difused";  it  appears  from  Florio's  Dictionary,  that  diffused, 
or  defused,  was  used  for  confused. — H.  N.  H.  ^ 

153 


Act  V.  Sc.  ii.  THE  LIFE  OF 

To  appoint  some  of  your  council  presently 
To  sit  with  us  once  more,  with  better  heed      80 
To  re-survey  them,  we  will  suddenly 
Pass  our  accept  and  peremptory  answer. 

K.  Hen.  Brother,  we  shall.     Go,  uncle  Exeter, 
And  brother  Clarence,  and  you,  brother  Glou- 
cester, 
Warwick  and  Huntingdon,  go  with  the  king; 
And  take  with  you  free  power  to  ratify, 
Augment,  or  alter,  as  your  wisdoms  best 
Shall  see  advantageable  for  our  dignity. 
Any  thing  in  or  out  of  our  demands; 
And  we  '11  consign  thereto.     Will  you,  fair  sis- 
ter, 90 
Go  with  the  princes,  or  stay  here  with  us? 

Q.  Isa.  Our  gracious  brother,  I  will  go  with  them : 
Haply  a  woman's  voice  may  do  some  good, 
When  articles  too  nicely  urged  be  stood  on. 

K.  Hen.  Yet  leave  our  cousin  Katharine  here  with 
us: 
She  is  our  capital  demand,  comprised 
Within  the  fore-rank  of  our  articles. 

82.  "Pass  our  accept";  Warburton  reads,  "Pass,  or  accept";  Malone 
conj.  "Pass,  or  except,"  &c. — I.  G. 

To  "pass"  here  signifies  "to  finish,  end,  or  agree  upon  the  acceptance 
which  we  shall  give  them,  and  return  our  peremptory  answer."  Thus 
in  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew:  "To  pass  assurance  of  a  dower,"  is 
to  agree  upon  a  settlement.  "To  passe  over;  to  passe,  to  finish  or 
agree  upon  some  businesse  or  matter.     Transigo."  (Baret). — H.  N.  H. 

85.  "Huntingdon";  John  Holland,  earl  of  Huntingdon,  who  after- 
wards married  the  widow  of  Edmund  Mortimer,  earl  of  March. 
Neither  Huntingdon  nor  Clarence  are  in  the  list  of  Dramatis  Per- 
spnae,  as  neither  of  them  speak  a  word. — H.  N.  H. 


154 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  V.  Sc.  il. 

Q.  Isa.  She  hath  good  leave. 

[Exeunt  all  except  Henry ^  Katharine,  and 
Alice. 
K.  Hen.  Fair  Katharine,  and  most  fair, 

Will  you  vouchsafe  to  teach  a  soldier  terms 

Such  as  will  enter  at  a  lady's  ear  100 

And  plead  his  love-suit  to  her  gentle  heart? 
Kath.  Your  majesty  shall  mock  at  me;  I  cannot 

speak  your  England. 
K.  Hen.  O  fair  Katharine,  if  you  will  love  me 

soundly  with  your  French  heart,  I  will  be 

glad  to  hear  you  confess  it  brokenly  with 

your    English   tongue.     Do    you    like    me, 

Kate? 
Kath.  Pardonnez-moi,  I  cannot  tell  vat  is  'like 

me.' 
K.  Hen.  An  angel  is  like  you,  Kate,  and  you  HO 

are  like  an  angel. 
Kath.  Que  dit-il?  que  je  suis  semblable  a  les 

anges  ? 
Alice.  Oui,  vraiment,  sauf  votre  grace,  ainst 

dit-il. 
K.  Hen.  I  said  so,  dear  Katharine ;  and  I  must 

not  blush  to  affirm  it. 
Kath.  O  bon  Dieu !  les  langues  des  hommes  sont 

pleines  de  tromperies. 
K.  Hen.  What   says   she,   fair  one?   that   the  120 

tongues  of  men  are  full  of  deceits? 
Alice.  Oui,  dat  de  tongues  of  de  mans  is  be  full 

of  deceits :  dat  is  de  princess. 

133.  "dat  is  de  princess";  probably  incomplete.     Alice  may  be  sup- 

155 


Act  V.  Sc.  ii.  THE  LIFE  OF 

K.  Hen.  The  princess  is  the  better  EngHsh- 
woman.  I'  faith,  Kate,  my  wooing  is  fit  for 
thy  understanding:  I  am  glad  thou  canst 
speak  no  better  EngHsh ;  for,  if  thou  couldst, 
thou  wouldst  find  me  such  a  plain  king  that 
thou  wouldst  think  I  had  sold  my  farm  to 
buy  my  crown.  I  know  no  ways  to  mince  130 
it  in  love,  but  directly  to  say  'I  love  you:' 
then  if  you  urge  me  farther  than  to  say 
'Do  you  in  faith?'  I  wear  out  my  suit. 
Give  me  your  answer;  i'  faith,  do:  and  so 
clap  hands  and  a  bargain:  how  say  you, 
lady? 

Kath.  Sauf  votre  honneur,  me  understand  veil. 

K.  Hen.  Marry,  if  you  would  put  me  to  verses 
or  to  dance  for  your  sake,  Kate,  why  you 
undid  me :  for  the  one,  I  have  neither  words  140 
nor  measure,  and  for  the  other,  I  have  no 
strength  in  measure,  yet  a  reasonable  meas- 
ure in  strength.  If  I  could  win  a  lady  at 
leap-frog,  or  by  vaulting  into  my  saddle 
with  my  armor  on  my  back,  under  the  cor- 

posed  to  wish  to  qualify  the  candor  of  the  sentiment,  when  the  liing 
cuts  her  short. — C.  H.  H. 

125-136.  Johnson  thinks  this  blunt,  honest  kind  of  English  wooing 
inconsistent  with  the  previous  character  of  the  king,  and  quotes  the 
Dauphin's  opinion  of  him,  "that  he  was  fitter  for  a  ball  room  than 
the  field."  This  opinion,  however,  was  erroneous.  Shakespeare  only 
meant  to  characterize  English  downright  sincerity;  and  surely  the 
previous  habits  of  Henry,  as  represented  in  former  scenes,  do  not 
make  us  expect  great  refinement  or  polish  in  him  upon  this  occa- 
sion, especially  as  fine  speeches  would  be  lost  upon  the  princess, 
from  her  ignorance  of  his  language. — H.  N.  H. 

142.  "measure";  is  played  upon  in  three  senses:  (1)  meter;  (2)  a 
stately  dance;  (3)  amount. — C.  H.  H. 

156 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  V.  Sc.  ii. 

rection  of  bragging  be  it  spoken,  I  should 
quickly  leap  into  a  wife.  Or  if  I  might 
buffet  for  my  lo\"e,  or  bound  my  horse  for 
her  favors,  I  could  lay  on  like  a  butcher  and 
sit  like  a  jack-an-apes,  never  off.  But,  be- 150 
fore  God,  Kate,  I  cannot  look  greenly  nor 
gasp  Out  my  eloquence,  nor  I  have  no  cun- 
ning in  protestation;  only  downright  oaths, 
which  I  never  use  till  urged,  nor  never  break 
for  urging.  If  thou  canst  love  a  fellow  of 
this  temper,  Kate,  whose  face  is  not  worth 
sun-burning,  that  never  looks  in  his  glass 
for  love  of  any  thing  he  sees  there,  let  thine 
eye  be  thy  cook.  I  speak  to  thee  plain  sol- 
dier: if  thou  canst  love  me  for  this,  take  me;  160 
if  not,  to  say  to  thee  that  I  shall  die,  is  true ; 
but  for  thy  love,  by  the  Lord,  no ;  yet  I  love 
thee  too.  And  while  thou  livest,  dear  Kate, 
take  a  fellow  of  plain  and  uncoined  con- 
stancy; for  he  perforce  must  do  thee  right, 
because  he  hath  not  the  gift  to  woo  in  other 
places:  for  these  fellows  of  infinite  tongue, 
that  can  rhyme  themselves  into  ladies' 
favors,  they  do  always  reason  themselves 
out  again.  What !  a  speaker  is  but  a  prater ;  1^0 
a  rhyme  is  but  a  ballad.  A  good  leg  will 
fall ;  a  straight  back  will  stoop ;  a  black  beard 
will  turn  white;  a  curled  pate  will  grow 
bald;  a  fair  face  will  wither;  a  full  eye  will 
wax  hollow:  but  a  good  heart,  Kate,  is  the 
sun  and  the  moon;  or,  rather,  the  sun,  and 

17?.  •'fall";  that  is,  shrink,  fall  away— H.  N.  H. 
157 


Act  V.  Sc.  ii.  THE  LIFE  OF 

not  the.  moon ;  for  it  shines  Dright  and  never 
changes,  but  keeps  his  course  truly.  If 
thou  would  have  such  a  one,  take  me;  and 
take  me,  take  a  soldier ;  take  a  soldier,  take  a  180 
king.  And  what  sayest  thou  then  to  my 
love  ?  speak,  my  fair,  and  fairly,  I  pray  thee. 

Kath.  Is  it  possible  dat  I  sould  love  the  enemy 
of  France? 

K.  Hen.  No ;  it  is  not  possible  you  should  love 
the  enemy  of  France,  Kate:  but,  in  loving 
me,  you  should  love  the  friend  of  France; 
for  I  love  France  so  well  that  I  will  not  part 
with  a  village  of  it;  I  will  have  it  all  mine: 
and,  Kate,  when  France  is  mine  and  I  am  190 
yours,  then  yours  is  France  and  you  are 
mine. 

Kath.  1  cannot  tell  vat  is  dat. 

K.  Hen.  No,  Kate  ?  I  will  tell  thee  in  French ; 
which  I  am  sure  will  hang  upon  my  tongue 
like  a  new-married  wife  about  her  husband's 
neck,  hardly  to  be  shook  off.  Je  quand  sur 
le  possession  de  France,  et  quand  vous  avez 
le  possession  de  moi, — let  me  see,  what  then  ? 
Saint  Denis  be  my  speed! — done  votre  est  200 
France  et  vous  etes  mienne.  It  is  as  easy 
for  me,  Kate,  to  conquer  the  kingdom  as  to 
speak  so  much  more  French:  I  shall  never 
move  thee  in  French,  unless  it  be  to  laugh  at 
me. 

Kath.  Sauf  votre  honneur,  le  Francois  que  vous 
parlez,  il  est  meilleur  que  I'Anglois  lequel  je 
parle, 

158 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  V.  Sc.  ii. 

K.  Hen.  No,   faith,   is 't   not,    Kate :   but  thy 
siDcaking  of  my  tongue,  and  I  thine,  most  210 
truly-falsely,  must  needs  be  granted  to  be 
much  at  one.     But,  Kate,  dost  thou  under- 
stand thus  much  Enghsh,  canst  thou  love  me? 

Kath.  I  cannot  tell. 

K.  Hen.  Can  any  of  your  neighbors  tell,  Kate? 
I  '11  ask  them.     Come,  I  know  thou  lovest 
me:  and  at  night,  when  you  come  into  your 
closet,    you  '11    question    this    gentlewoman 
about  me ;  and  I  know,  Kate,  you  will  to  her 
dispraise  those  parts  in  me  that  you  love  with  220 
your  heart :  but,  good  Kate,  mock  me  merci- 
fully; the  rather,  gentle  princess,  because  I 
love  thee  cruelly.     If  thou  beest  mine,  Kate, 
as  I  have  a  saving  faith  within  me  tells  me 
thou  shalt,  I  get  thee  with  scambling,  and 
thou  must  therefore  needs  prove   a  good 
soldier-breeder:  shall  not  thou  and  I,  between 
Saint  Denis  and  Saint  George,  compound  a 
boy,  half  French,  half  English,  that  shall 
go  to  Constantinople  and  take  the  Turk  by  230 
the  beard?  shall  we  not?  what  sayest  thou, 
my  fair  flower-de-luce? 

228-231.  "componnd  .  .  .  beard";  an  unconsciously  ironical 
reference  to  Henry's  actual  successor,  of  whom  no  such  exploit  is 
recorded.  But  there  may  be  also  an  allusion  to  the  project  of  the 
Emperor  Sigismund,  who  visited  Henry  in  England,  with  a  view  to 
a  European  alliance  against  the  Turk.  Shakespeare  could  have  read 
this  in  Halle.— C.  H.  H. 

230.  "take  the  Turk  by  the  beard";  this  is  one  of  the  Poet's 
anachronisms.  The  Turks  had  not  possession  of  Constantinople  until 
the  year  1453,  when  Henry  had  been  dead  thirty-one  years. — 
H.  N.  H. 

159 


Act  V.  Sc.  ii.  THE  LIFE  OF 

Kath.  I  do  not  know  dat. 

K.  Hen.  No ;  'tis^hereaf  ter  to  know,  but  now  to 
promise :  do  but  now  promise,  Kate,  you  will 
endeavor  for  your  French  part  of  such  a 
boy;  and  for  my  English  moiety  take  the 
word  of  a  king  and  a  bachelor.  How 
answer  you,  la  plus  belle  Katharine  du 
monde,  mon  tres  cher  et  devin  deesse  ?  240 

Kath.  Your  majestee-  ave  fausse  French 
enough  to  deceive  de  most  sage  demoiselle 
dat  is  en  France. 

K,  Hen.  Now,  fie  upon  my  false  French !  By 
mine  honor,  in  true  English,  I  love  thee, 
Kate :  by  which  honor  I  dare  not  swear  thou 
lovest  me ;  yet  my  blood  begins  to  flatter  me 
that  thou  dost,  notwithstanding  the  poor  and 
untempering  eiFect  of  my  visage.  Now, 
beshrew  my  father's  ambition !  he  was  think-  250 
ing  of  civil  wars  when  he  got  me :  therefore 
was  I  created  with  a  stubborn  outside,  with 
an  aspect  of  iron,  that,  when  I  come  to  woo 
ladies,  I  fright  them.  But,  in  faith,  Kate, 
the  elder  I  wax,  the  better  I  shall  appear: 
my  comfort  is,  that  old  age,  that  ill  layer  up 
of  beauty,  can  do  no  more  spoil  upon  my 
face:  thou  hast  me,  if  thou  hast  me,  at  the 
worst ;  and  thou  shalt  wear  me,  if  thou  wear 
me,  better  and  better:  and  therefore  tell  me,  260 
most  fair  Katharine,  will  you  have  me? 
Put  oiF  your  maiden  blushes;  avouch  the 
thoughts  of  your  heart  with  the  looks  of  an 
empress;  take  me  by  the  hand,  and  say 
160 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  v.  Sc.  ii. 

*Harry  of  England,  I  am  thine :'  which  word 
thou  shalt  no  sooner  bless  mine  ear  withal, 
but  I  will  tell  thee  aloud  'England  is  thine, 
Ireland  is  thine,  France  is  thine,  and  Henry 
Plantagenet  is  thine;'  who,  though  I  speak 
it  before  his  face,  if  he  be  not  fellow  with  270 
the  best  king,  thou  shalt  find  the  best  king 
of  good  fellows.  Come,  your  answer  in 
broken  music ;  for  thy  voice  is  music  and  thy 
English  broken;  therefore,  queen  of  all, 
Katharine,  break  thy  mind  to  me  in  broken 
English,  wilt  thou  have  me? 

Kaih.    Dat  is  as  it  sail  please  de  roi  mon  pere. 

K.  Hen.  Nay,  it  will  please  him  well,  Kate;  it 
shall  please  him,  Kate. 

Kath.  Den  it  sail  also  content  me.  280 

K.  Hen.  Upon  that  I  kiss  your  hand,  and  I  call 
you  my  queen. 

Kath.  Eaissez,  mon  seigneur,  laissez,  laissez :  ma 
foi,  je  ne  veux  point  que  vous  abaissiez  votre 
grandeur  en  baisant  la  main  d'une  de  votre 
seigneurie  indigne  serviteur;  excusez-moi,  je 
vous  supplie,  mon  tres-puissant  seigneur. 

K.  Hen.  Then  I  will  kiss  your  lips,  Kate. 

Kath.  Les    dames    et    demoiselles    pour    etre 
baisees   devant   leur  noces,   il  n'est  pas   la  290 
coutume  de  France. 

K.  Hen.  Madam  my  interpreter,  what  says 
she? 

974.  "queen  of  all,  Katharine";  Capell  conj.,  adopted  by  Dyce, 
"queen  of  all  Katharines." — I.  G. 

xvii-11  i6i 


Act  V.  Sc.  ii.  THE  LIFE  OF 

Alice.  Dat  it  is  not  be  de  fashion  pour  les  ladies 
of  France, — I  cannot  tell  vat  is  baiser  en 
Anglish. 

K.  Hen.  To  kiss. 

Alice.  Your  majesty  entendre  bettre  que  moi. 

K.  Hen.  It  is  not  a  fashion  for  the  maids  in 
France   to   kiss   before   they   are   married,  300 
would  she  say? 

Alice.  Oui,  vraiment. 

K.  Hen.  O  Kate,  nice  customs  courtesy  to 
great  kings.  Dear  Kate,  you  and  I  cannot 
be  confined  within  the  weak  list  of  a  coun- 
trj^'s  fashion :  we  are  the  makers  of  manners, 
Kate ;  and  the  liberty  that  follows  our  places 
stop  the  mouths  of  all  find-faults;  as  I  will 
do  yours,  for  upholding  the  nice  fashion  of 
your  country  in  denying  me  a  kiss :  there-  310 
fore,  patiently  and  yielding.  [Kissing  her.~\ 
You  have  witchcraft  in  your  lips,  Kate: 
there  is  more  eloquence  in  a  sugar  touch  of 
them  than  in  the  tongues  of  the  French 
council;  and  they  should  sooner  persuade 
Harry  of  England  than  a  general  petition 
of  monarchs.     Here  comes  your  father. 

Re-enter  the  French  King  and  his  Queen, 
Burgundy,  and  other  Lords. 

Bur.  God  save  your  majesty!  my  royal  cousin, 

teach  you  our  princess  English  ? 
K.  Hen.  I    would   have    her    learn,    my    fair  320 

cousin,  how  perfectly  I  love  her ;  and  that  is 

good  English. 

162 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  V.  Sc.  ii. 

Bur.  Is  she  not  apt? 

K.  Hen.  Our  tongue  is  rough,  coz,  and  my 
condition  is  not  smooth;  so  that,  having 
neither  the  A^oice  nor  the  heart  of  flattery 
about  me,  I  cannot  so  conjure  up  the  spirit 
of  love  in  her,  that  he  will  appear  in  his  true 
likeness. 

Bur.  Pardon  the  frankness  of  my  mirth,  if  I  330 
answer  you  for  that.  If  you  would  conjure 
in  her,  you  must  make  a  circle;  if  conjure 
up  love  in  her  in  his  true  likeness,  he  must 
appear  naked  and  blind.  Can  you  blame 
her  then,  being  a  maid  yet  rosed  over  with 
the  virgin  crimson  of  modesty,  if  she  deny 
the  appearance  of  a  naked  blind  boy  in  her 
naked  seeing  self?  It  were,  my  lord,  a  hard 
condition  for  a  maid  to  consign  to. 

K.  Hen.  Yet  they  do  wink  and  yield,  as  love  340 
is  blind  and  enforces. 

Bur.  They  are  then  excused,  my  lord,  when  they 
see  not  what  they  do. 

K.  Hen.  Then,  good  my  lord,  teach  your 
cousin  to  consent  winking. 

Bur.  I  will  wink  on  her  to  consent,  my  lord,  if 
you  will  teach  her  to  know  my  meaning :  for 
maids,  well  summered  and  warm  kept,  are 
like  flies  at  Bartholomew-tide,  blind,  though 
they  have  their  eyes ;  and  then  they  will  en-  350 
dure  handling,  wliich  before  would  not 
abide  looking  on. 

K.  Hen.  This  moral  ties  me  over  to  time  and  a 
hot  summer;  and  so  I  shall  catch  the  fly, 
163 


Act  V.  Sc.  ii.  THE  LIFE  OF 

your  cousin,  in  the  latter  end,  and  she  must 
be  blind  too. 

Bur.  As  love  is,  my  lord,  before  it  loves. 

K.  Hen.  It  is  so:  and  you  may,  some  of  you, 
thank  love  for  my  blindness,  who  cannot  see 
many  a  fair  French  city  for  one  fair  French  360 
maid  that  stands  in  my  way. 

Fr.  King.  Yes,  my  lord,  you  see  them  perspec- 
tively,  the  cities  turned  into  a  maid;  for 
they  are  all  girdled  with  maiden  walls  that 
war  hath  never  entered. 

K.  Hen.  Shall  Kate  be  my  wife? 

Fr.  King.  So  please  you. 

K,  Hen.  I  am  content ;  so  the  maiden  cities  you 
talk  of  may  wait  on  her:  so  the  maid  that 
stood  in  the  way  for  my  wish  shall  show  me  370 
the  way  to  my  will. 

Fr.  King.  We  have  consented  to  all  terms  of 
reason. 

K.  Hen.  Is  't  so,  my  lords  of  England  ? 

West.  The  king  hath  granted  every  article. 
His  daughter  first,  and  then  in  sequel  all, 
According  to  their  firm  proposed  natures. 

Exe.  Only  he  hath  not  yet  subscribed  this : 

Where  your  ma  j  est}"  demands,  that  the  King 
of  France,  having  any  occasion  to  write  for  380 
matter  of  grant,  shall  name  your  highness  in 
this  form  and  with  this  addition,  in  French, 
Notre  trescher  fils  Henri,  Roi  d'Angleterre, 
Heritier    de    France;    and   thus   in    Latin, 

384.  "Heritier"^  Ff,  read  "Heretere";  "Prceclarissimus" ;   so   Ff.^ 

164 


KING  HENRY  V  Act  v.  Sc.  ii. 

Prseclarissimus  filius  noster  Henricus,  Rex 
Anglic,  et  Hseres  Franciae. 
Fr.  King.  Nor  this  I  have  not,  brother,  so   de- 
nied, 
But  your  request  shall  make  me  let  it  pass. 
K.  Hen.  I  pray  you  then,  in  love  and  dear 

alliance,  390 

Let  that  one  article  rank  with  the  rest ; 
And  thereupon  give  me  your  daughter. 
Fr,  King.  Take  her,  fair  son,  and  from  her  blood 
raise  up 
Issue  to  me ;  that  the  contending  kingdoms 
Of  France  and  England,  whose  very  shores  look 

pale 
With  envy  of  each  other's  happiness. 
May  cease  their  hatred,  and  this  dear  conjunc- 
tion 
Plant  neighborhood  and  Christian-Kke  accord 
In  their  sweet  bosoms,  that  never  war  advance 
His  bleeding  sword  'twixt  England  and  fair 
France.  400 

All.  Amen! 

K.  Hen.  Now,  welcome,  Kate:  and  bear  me  wit- 
ness all. 
That  here  I  kiss  her  as  my  sovereign  queen. 

[Flourish. 
Q.  Isa.  God,  the  best  maker  of  all  marriages. 
Combine  your  hearts  in  one,  your  realms  in  one ! 
As  man  and  wife,  being  two,  are  one  in  love. 
So  be  there  'twixt  your  kingdoms  such  a  spousal, 

Rann    reads   "Percarissimus";   the   error   is,   however,    copied    from 
Holinshed.— I.  G. 

165 


Act  V.  Sc.  ii.  THE  LIFE  OF 

That  never  may  ill  offense,  or  fell  jealousy, 
Which  troubles  oft  the  bed  of  blessed  marriage. 
Thrust  in  between  the  paction  of  these  king- 
doms, 410 
To  make  divorce  of  their  incorporate  league : 
That  English  may  as  French,  French  English- 
men, 
Receive  each  other.     God  speak  this  Amen ! 
All.  Amen. 

K.  Hen.  Prepare  we  for  our  marriage:  on  which 
day. 
My  Lord  of  Burgundy,  we  '11  take  your  oath, 
And  all  the  peers',  for  surety  of  our  leagues. 
Then  shall  I  swear  to  Kate,  and  you  to  me ; 
And  may  our  oaths  well  kept  and  prosperous  be ! 

\_Sennet.  Exeunt. 


EPILOGUE 

Enter  Chorus. 

Chor.  Thus  far,  with  rough  and  all-unable  pen. 

Our  bending  author  hath  pursued  the  story, 
In  little  room  confining  mighty  men, 

Mangling  by  starts  the  full  course  of  their 
glory. 
Small  time,  but  in  that  small  most  greatly  lived 
This   star   of   England:    Fortune   made   his 
sword ; 

419,  -'Sennet";  F.   1,  "Senet";  F.   2,  "Sonet,"  as  though  referring 
to  the  fourteen  lines  of  the  Epilogue. — I.  G. 
4.  That  is,  by  touching  only  on  select  parts. — H.  N.  H. 

166 


KING   HENRY  V  Epilogue 

By  which  the  world's  best  garden  he  achieved, 

And  of  it  left  his  son  imperial  lord. 
Henry  the  Sixth,  in  infant  bands  crown'd  King 
Of  France  and  England,  did  this  king  suc- 
ceed ;  10 
Whose  state  so  many  had  the  managing. 

That  they  lost  France  and  made  his  England 
bleed : 
Which  oft  our  stage  hath  shown ;  and,  for  their 
sake, 
In  your  fair  minds  let  this  acceptance  take. 

[Exit. 

13.  "Which   oft   our  stage  hath  shown";  vide   Preface  to   1,  2,  3 
Henry  VI.— I.  G. 


167 


GLOSSARY 

By  Israel  Gollancz,  M.A. 


A',  he;   (Rowe,  "he");  II.  iii.  11. 

Abounding,  rebounding,  (?)  a 
bounding;  (Qq. ;  "abundant" ; 
Theobald,  "a  bounding") ;  IV. 
iii.  104. 

Abutting,  contiguous;  Prol.  I. 
21. 

Accept,  acceptance  (?  accepted)  ; 
V.  ii.  82. 

Accomplishing,  equipping,  giv- 
ing the  finishing  touches  to; 
Prol.  IV.  12. 

AccoMPT,  account;  Prol.  I.  17. 

Achievement;  "for  a.,"  i.  e.  "in- 
stead of  achie^^ng  a  victory," 
(Malone,  others,  "  to  bring  the 
affair  to  a  conclusion");  III. 
V.  60. 

Act,  practice,  working;  I.  ii.  189. 

Addiction,  inclination;  I.  i.  54. 

Addrest,  ready;  III.  iii.  58. 

Admiration,  astonishment;  II.  ii. 
108. 

Advance,  raise,  unfurl;  II.  ii.  192. 

Advantageable,  advantageous ; 
V.  ii.  88. 

Advantages,  interest,  additions ; 
IV.  iii.  50. 

Adventures,  risks ;  IV.  i.  124. 

Advice;  "on  his  more  a.,"  on  bet- 
ter consideration;  II.  ii.  43. 

Advised;  "be  a.,"  consider;  I.  ii. 
251. 

Afeard,  afraid;  IV.  i.  152. 

Affiancb,  confidence;  II.  ii.  127. 

After,  afterwards;   IV.  ii.  b9. 


J  §3 


All-unable,  very  weak;  Epil.  I. 

All-watched,  spent  in  watching; 
Prol.  IV.  38. 

Ancient,  ensign;  II.  i.  3. 

Annoy,  hurt;  II.  ii.  102. 

Another,  the  other;  I.  ii.  113. 

Answer,  be  ready  for  battle;  II. 
iv.  3. 

Antics,  buffoons;  (Ft.  "Anti- 
ques") ;  III.  ii.  33. 

Apace,  quickly;  IV.  viii.  3. 

Appearance,  sight,  visibleness; 
(Ff.  1,  2,  "apparance")  ;  II.  ii. 
76. 

Apperttnents,  appurtenances;  II. 
ii.  87. 

Apprehension,  perception;  III. 
\ii.  153. 

Approbation,  attestation,  ratifica- 
tion; I.  ii.  19. 

Apt,  ready;  II.  ii.  86. 

Arbitrement,  decision;  IV.  i. 
174. 

Argument,  cause  of  quarrel;  III. 
i.  21;  theme.  III.  vii.  39. 

Armor,  suit  of  armor;  III.  vii.  1. 

Assays,  hostile  attempts;  (Ma- 
lone, "essays")  ;  I.  ii.  151. 

As  WERE,  as  though  there  were; 
II.  iv.  20. 

Athwart,  across;  Prol.  V.  9. 

Attaint,  infection;  Prol.  IV.  39. 

Aunchient,  ensign;  V.  i.  19. 

AUNCHIENT    lieutenant,    (SO    Ff. 

1,  2,  Ff.  3,  4,  "atincient";  Ma- 
lone from  Qq.,  "ensign"),  "An- 


KING  HENRY  V 


Glossary 


cient,"  Pistol's  title  according 
to  Fluellen;  III.  vi.  13. 

AvAUNT,  away,  begone;  III.  ii. 
21. 

Awkward,  unfair;  II.  iv.  85. 

Balls,  (1)  eyeballs,  (2)  cannon- 
balls;  V.  ii.  17. 

Balm,  consecrated  oil  used  for 
anointing  kings;  IV.  i.  288. 

Bankrupt  (F.,  "banqu'rout)  ;  IV. 
ii.  43. 

Bar,  impediment,  exception;  I.  ii. 
35;  "barrier,  place  of  congress" 
(Johnson)  ;  V.  ii.  27. 

Barbason,  the  name  of  a  fiend; 

II.  i.  61. 

Basilisks,  (1)  serpents  who  were 
supposed  to  kUl  by  a  glance; 
(2)  large  cannon;  used  in  both 
senses  of  the  word;  V.  ii.  17. 

Bate,  flap  the  wings,  as  the  hawk 
does  when,  unhooded,  she  tries 
to  fly  at  the  game  (used  quib- 
blingly) ;  III.  vii.  128. 

Battle,  army;  Prol.  IV.  9. 

Bawcock,  a  term  of  endearment ; 

III.  ii.  25. 

Beaveb,  visor  of  a  helmet;  IV.  ii. 

44. 
Become,  grace;  J.  11.  9. 
Before-breach,  breach,  committed 

in  former  time;  TV.  i.  186. 
Beguilixg,  deceiving;  IV.  i.  178. 
Bending,    bending    beneath    the 

burden  of  the  taskj   (Warbur- 

ton  conj.  "blending")  :  Epil.  2. 
Bend   up,   strain    (like   a   bow) ; 

III.  i.  16. 
Bent,  (1)  glance,  (2)  aim;  V.  ii. 

16. 
Beshrew,  a  mild  oath ;  V.  ii.  250. 
Besmirch'd,  soiled,  stained;   IV. 

iii.  110. 
Best,  bravest;  III.  ii.  40. 


Bestow  yourself,  repair  to  your 

post;  IV.  iii.  68. 
Blood,  temperament,  passion;  II. 

ii.  133. 
Bloody,  bloodthirsty;  II.  iv.  51. 
,    "b.    flag,"    i.    e.    signal    of 

bloody  war;  I.  ii.  101. 
Bolted,  sifted;  II.  ii.  137. 
Bonnet,    covering    of    the    head, 

cap;  IV.  i.  233. 
Book,  to  register;  IV.  vii.  79. 
Boot;  "make  b.",  make  booty;  I. 

ii.  194. 
Bootless,  uselessly;  III.  iii.  24. 
Bottoms,  ships,  vessels;  Prol.  III. 

12. 
Bound;  "b.  my  horse,"  i.  e.  make 

my  horse  curvet;  V.  ii.  148. 
Braggaht,  boaster;   (Ff.,    'Brag- 

gard");  II.  i.  68. 
Brave,  bravely  decked,  finely  ap- 
pointed; Prol.  III.  5. 
Bravely,    making    a    fine    show; 

IV.  iii.  69. 

Break,  rend;  III.  jii.  40;  disclose; 

V.  ii.  275. 

Breath,  breathing  time;  II.  iv. 
145. 

Brim  (used  adjectivally) ;  I.  ii. 
150,  f. 

Bring,  accompany;  II.  iii.  i. 

Broached,  spitted;  Prol.  V.  32. 

Broken  music;  "some  instru- 
ments, such  as  viols,  violins, 
flutes,  &c.,  were  formerly  made 
in  sets  of  four,  which,  when 
played  together,  formed  a  'con- 
sort.' If  one  or  more  of  the 
instruments  of  one  set  were 
substituted  for  the  correspond- 
ing ones  of  another  set,  the 
result  was  no  longer  a  'con- 
sort,' but  'broken  music'"; 
(Chappell;  W.  A.  Wright);  V. 
ii.  273. 


m 


Glossary 


THE  LIFE  OF 


Bruised,  battered,  dented;  Prol. 
V.  18. 

BuBUKLES,  a  corruption  of  car- 
buncles; (Qq.,  "pumples"  i  Ca- 
pell,  "pupuncles")  ;  III.  vi.  116. 

Buffet,  box;  V.  ii.  148. 

Bully,  dashing  fellow;  IV.  i  48, 

BuRXET,  the  name  of  a  herb  {san- 
guisorba  offlcinalis) ;  V.  ii.  49. 

But,  used  after  a  strong  as- 
severation; III.  V.  12. 

Cadwallader,  the  last  of  the 
Welsh  Kings;  V.  i.  29. 

Capet;  t.  e.  Hugh  Capet,  the  an- 
cestor of  the  French  Kings ;  I. 
ii.  78. 

Capital,  chief;  V.  ii.  96. 

Captived,  taken  captive;  II.  iv. 
55. 

Career,  race;  (Ff.  1,  2,  "Car- 
rier e")  ;  III.  iii.  23. 

Careers,  gallopings  of  a  horse 
backwards  and  forwards;  a 
course  run  at  full  speed; 
"passes  careers"  probably  = 
"indulges  in  sallies  of  wit";  I. 
i.  140. 

Careful,  full  of  care;  IV.  i.  259. 

Carefully,  "more  than  c,"  i.  e. 
"with  more  than  common  care" ; 
II.  iv.  2. 

Carry  coals,  pocket  insults;  III. 
ii.  52. 

Case,  set  of  four;  a  musical  allu- 
sion; III.  ii.  4. 

Casques,  helmets;  (Capell's  emen- 
dation; Ff.  1,  2,  3,  "Cashes,"  F. 
4,  "Casket")  ;  Prol.  I.  13. 

Casted,  cast,  cast  off;  IV.  i.  23. 

Chace,  a  term  in  the  game  of 
tennis;  a  match  played  at  ten- 
nis; I.  ii.  266. 

Chanced,  happened;  Prol.  V.  40. 

Charge,  load,  burden;  I.  ii.  15. 


Chattels,  goods  generally;  II.  iii. 
54. 

Cheerly,  cheerfully ;  II.  ii.  192. 

Childeric,  the  Merovingian  king; 
L  ti.  65. 

Choler,  wrath,  anger;  IV.  vii. 
194. 

Christom,  "a  white  vesture  put 
upon  the  child  after  baptism; 
in  the  bills  of  mortality  such 
children  as  died  within  the 
month  were  called  "chrisoms"  \ 
(Qq.  1,  3,  "crysombd,"  John- 
son, "chrisom")  ;  II.  iii.  12. 

Chuck,  a  term  of  endearment; 
III.  ii.  26. 

Clear  thy  crystals,  "dry  thine 
eyes";  II.  iii.  60. 

Close,  cadence,  union;  (P  2, 
"cloze")  ;  I.  ii.  182. 

Cloy'd,  surfeited,  satiated;  II.  ii. 
9. 

Comes  o'er,  reminds,  taunts;  I.  ii. 
267. 

Companies,  company,  compan- 
ions; I.  i.  55. 

Compassing,  obtaining;  IV.  i.  323. 

Cojipelled,  enforced,  exacted ; 
III.  vi.  124. 

Complement,  external  appear- 
ance; (Theobald,  "compli- 
ment") ;  II.  ii.  134. 

Compound  with,  come  to  terms 
with;  IV.  vi.  33. 

Con,  learn  by  heart;  III.  vi.  84. 

Condition,  temper,  character;  V. 
ii.  325. 

Condole,  lament,  sympathize 
with;  II.  1.  142. 

Conduct  ;  "safe  c,"  escort,  guard ; 
I.  ii.  297. 

Confounded,  ruined,  wasted;  III. 
i.  13. 

CoNGREEiNG,  agreeing;  (Pope, 
"C  ong  ruiv/g,"  Qq.,  "Con- 
grueth") ;  I.  ii.  182. 


170 


KING  HENRY  V 


Glossary 


CoNGREETED,  greeted  each  other; 
V.  ii.  31. 

Conscience,  inmost  thoughts, 
private  opinion;  IV.  i.  123. 

Consent,  harmony,  a  musical 
term;  I.  ii.  181;  unity  of  opin- 
ion; II.  ii.  2-2. 

Consideration,  meditation,  reflec- 
tion; I.  i.  2S. 

Consign,  agree;  V.  ii.  90. 

Constant,  unshaken;   II.  ii.   133. 

Constraint,  compulsion;  II.  iv. 
97. 

Contemplation,  observation;  I.  i. 
63. 

Contrariously,  in  contrary  ways; 
I.  u.  206. 

Contrived,  plotted;  IV.  i.  177. 

Convey'd,  secretly  contrived  to 
pass  off;  I.  ii.  74. 

Convoy,  conveyance;  IV.  iii.  37. 

Coranto,  a  quick  and  lively 
dance;  (Johnson's  emendation 
of  Ff.,  "Carranto");  III.  v.  33. 

Corroborate  (one  of  Pistol's 
meaningless  words)  ;  II.  i.  138. 

Couch  down,  crouch  down,  stoop 
down;  IV.  ii.  37. 

Coulter,  plough-share ;  (Ff ., 
"Culter") ;  V.  ii.  46. 

Counterfeit,  dissembling;  V.  i. 
73. 

Couple  a  gorge  !  =  coupe  la 
gorge,  perhaps  merely  Pistol's 
blunder;  II.  i.  79. 

Coursing,  hunting  after  booty, 
marauding;  I.  ii.  143. 

Courtsey,  bow,  yield;  (Ff.,  "cur- 
sie")  ;  V.  ii.  303. 

Cousin,  used  as  a  title  of  courte- 
sy; I.  ii.  4. 

Coz,  cousin;  (Ff.,  "couze") ;  IV. 
iii.  30. 

Create,  created;  II.  ii.  31. 

Crescive,  growing;    (Ff.  1,  2,  3, 


"cressiue";  F.  4,  crescive);  I. 
i.  66. 

Crispin  Crispian,  two  brothers 
who  suffered  martyrdom;  tlie 
patron  saints  of  shoemakers; 
IV.  iii.  57. 

Crush'd,  forced,  strained;  (Qq., 
Pope,  "curst,";  Warburtoii, 
'"scus'd") ;   I.  ii.   175. 

Cullions,  base  wretches;  a  term 
of  abuse;  III.  ii.  21. 

Cum  king,  skill;  V.  ii.  152. 

CuRRANCE,  current,  flow;  (F.  1, 
"currance" ;  Ff.  2,  3,  "currant"; 
F.  4,  "current")  ;  I.  i.  34. 

CuRsoRAHY,  cursory  (Ff.,  "cursel- 
arie") ;  V.  ii.  77. 

Curtains,  banners,  used  con- 
temptuously; IV.  ii.  41. 

Curtle-ax,  a  corruption  of  cut- 
lass, a  broad,  curved  sword; 
IV.  ii.  21. 

Dalliance,  trifling,  toying;  Prol. 

II.  2. 
Dare,  make  to  crouch  in  fear;  a 

term  of  falconry;  IV.  ii.  36. 
Dark,  darkness;   Prol.  IV.  2. 
Dauphin,    the    heir-apparent    to 

the  throne  of  France;  (Ff.,  Qq., 

"Dolphin");  I.  ii.  221. 
Dear,  grievous;  II.  ii.  181. 
Defendant,  defensive;   II.  iv.   8. 
Defensible,   capable   of   offering 

resistance;  III.  iii.  50. 
Defunction,  death;  I.  ii.  58. 
Degree;  "of  his  d.",  i.  e.  "of  one 

of  his  rank";  IV.  vii.  147. 
Deracinate,  uproot;   V.  ii.  47. 
Diffused,  wild,  disordered;    (Ff. 

1,  2,  "defus'd") ;  V.  ii.  61. 
Digest,  reduce  to  order;    (Pope, 

"well    digest,"    for    "we  'II    di- 
gest") ;  Prol.  II.  31. 
Digested,  concocted;  II.  ii.  56. 
Discuss,  explain;  III.  ii.  68. 


171 


Glossary 


THE  LIFE  OF, 


Dishonest,  immoral,  unchaste ; 
(so  Holinshed's  2nd  edition; 
Capell,  from  Holinshed's  1st 
edition,  "unhonest") ;   I.  ii.  49. 

Distemper,  mental  derangement, 
perturbation;  II.  ii.  54. 

Distressful,  hard  earned;  (Col- 
lier MS.,  "distasteful")  ;  IV.  i. 
287. 

DouT,  extinguish,  put  out;  IV.  ii. 
11. 

Dowx-ROPiNG,  hanging  down  in 
filaments;  IV.  ii.  48. 

Drench,  physic  for  a  horse;  III. 
V.  19. 

Dress  us,  address  ourselves,  pre- 
pare ourselves;  IV.  i.  10. 

Dull'd,  made  insensible;  (Ff.  3, 
4,  "luU'd";  Steevens,  "dol'd"); 
II.  ii.  9. 

Earnest,  earnest  money,  money 
paid  beforehand  in  pledge  of  a 
bargain;  II.  ii.  169. 

Eke  out,  piece,  lengthen  out; 
(Pope's  emendation,  F.  1, 
"eech";  Ff.  2,  3,  4,  "ech"); 
Prol.  III.  35. 

Element,  sky;  IV.  i.  107. 

Embassy,  message,  I.  i.  95;  mis- 
sion, I.  ii.  240. 

Embattled,  arrayed  for  battle; 
IV.  ii.  14. 

Empery,  empire;  I.  ii.  226. 

Emptying,  issue;  III.  v.  6. 

End,  end  of  the  matter;  (Stee- 
vens, from  Qq.,  "the  humour  of 
it") ;  II.  i.  11. 

English,  i.  e.  English.  King,  or 
General;  II.  iv.  1. 

Englutted,  engulfed,  swallowed 
up;  IV.  iu.  83. 

Enlarge,  release  from  prison,  set 
at  liberty;  II.  ii.  40. 

Enow,  enough;  IV.  i.  250, 


Enrounded,     surrounded;     Prol. 

IV.  36. 
Enscheduled,  formally  drawn  up 

in  writing;  V.  ii.  73. 
Estate,  state;  IV.  i.  101, 
Even,  "the  e.  of  it,"  just  what  it 

is;  II.  i.  136. 
Evenly,    directly,   in    a   straight 

line;  II.  iv.  91. 
Even-pleach'd,  evenly  interturn- 

ed;  V.  ii.  42. 
Exception,    disapprobation,    ob- 
jections; II.  iv.  34. 
Executors,    executioners;    I.    ii. 

203. 
Exhale,     draw;     (according     to 

Steevens,  "die");  II.  i.  70. 
Exhibiters,  the  introducers  of  a 

bill  in  Parliament;  I.  i.  74. 
Expedience,   expedition;    IV.   iii. 

70. 
Expedition,  march;  II.  ii.  191. 

Faced,  outfaced  (used  quibbling- 
ly);  III.  vii.  95. 

Faculty,  latent  power;  I.  i.  66. 

Fain,  gladly,  willingly;   I.  i.  85. 

Fantastically,  capriciously;  II. 
iv.  27. 

Farced,  "f.  title,"  "stuffed  out 
with  pompous  phrases"  (allud- 
ing perhaps  to  the  herald  going 
before  the  King  to  proclaim  his 
full  title) ;  IV.  i.  291. 

Fatal  and  neglected,  i.  e.  "fa- 
tally neglected;  neglected  to 
our  destruction";  II.  iv.  13. 

Favor,  appearance,  aspect;  V.  ii. 
63. 

Fear'd,  frightened;  I.  ii.  155. 

Fell,  cruel;  III.  iii.  17. 

Fer,  a  word  (probably  meaning- 
less) coined  by  Pistol,  playing 
upon  "Monsieur  le  Fer";  IV. 
iv.  29. 


172 


KING  HENRY  V 


Glossary 


Ferret,  worry   (as  a  ferret  does       France,    the    King    of    France; 


a  rabbit);  IV.  iv.  30. 

Fet,  fetched;  III.  i.  18. 

Fetlock,  hair  behind  the  pastern 
joint  of  horses;  IV.  vii.  85. 

Few;  "in  f.,"  in  brief,  in  a  few 
words;  I.  ii.  245. 

FiGO,  a  term  of  contempt,  accom- 
panied by  a  contemptuous  ges- 
ture; the  word  and  habit  came 
from  Spain;  hence  "the  fig  of 
Spain";  III.  vi.  63. 

Fig  of  Spain,  possibly  an  allusion 
to  the  poisoned  figs  given  by 
Spaniards  to  the  objects  of 
their  revenge  (Steevens) ;  ac- 
cording to  others,=  figo;  III. 
vi.  66. 

Find,  furnish,  provide;  (Qq. 
Pope,  "fine")  ;  I.  ii.  72. 

Find-faults,  fault-finders;  V.  ii. 
308. 

Finer  end,  probably  Mrs.  Quick- 
ly's  error  for  "final  end";  II. 
iii.  11. 

FiRK,  beat,  drub  (Pistol's  cant) ; 
IV.  iv.  29. 

Fits,  befits,  becomes;  II.  iv.  11. 

Flesh'd,  fed  with  flesh  like  a 
hound  trained  for  the  chase;  II. 
iv.  50;  hardened  in  bloodshed; 
III.  iii.  11. 

Flexure,  bending;  IV.  i.  283. 

Floods,  rivers;  I.  ii.  45. 

Flower-de-luce,  fleur-de-lys,  the 
emblem  of  France;  V.  ii.  232. 

Footed,  landed;  II.  iv.  143. 

For,  "cold  f.  action,"  i.  e.  cold  for 
want  of  action;  I.  ii.  114. 

'Fore  God,  before  God,  a  mild 
oath;  II.  ii.  1. 

Forespent,  past;  II.  iv.  36. 

For  us,  as  for  us,  as  regards  our- 
self ;  II.  iv.  113. 

Fox,  sword;  IV.  iv.  9. 

Fracted,  broken;  II.  i,  138. 


Prol.  II.  20, 
Freely,  liberally;  I.  ii.  231. 
French;    "the    French,"=  the 

French  King,  or  general;  IV. 

iv,  82. 
French     hose,     wide     loose 

breeches;  III.  vii.  61. 
Fret,  chafe;  IV.  vii.  85. 
Friend,  befriend;   IV.  v.  17. 
Fright,  frighten;  V.  ii.  254, 
From;   "f.    the    answer"    beyond, 

above  answering  the  challenge; 

IV.  vii.  146. 
Full-fraught,     fully     freighted, 

fully  laden  with  all  virtues;  II. 

ii.  139. 
Fumitory,  the  name  of  a  plant; 

(Ff.  1,  2,  3,  "fementary") ;  V. 

ii.  45. 

Gage,  pledge;  IV.  i.  232. 
Galled,  worn  away;  III.  i.  12. 
Galliard,    a    nimble    and    lively 

dance;  I.  ii.  252. 
Galling,    harassing,    I.    ii.    151; 

scoffing;  V.  i.  78. 
Gamester,  player;  III,  vi.  128. 
Garb,  style;  V.  i.  85. 
Gentle,    make    gentle,    ennoble; 

IV.  iii.  63. 
Gentles,  gentlefolks;  Prol.  I.  8. 
Gesture,   bearing;    Prol,   IV,   25. 
Giddy,  hot-brained,  inconstant;  I. 

ii.  145. 
Gilt,    used    with    a    play    upon 

"guilt";  Prol,  II,  26. 
GiMMAL  BIT,  a  bit  consisting  of 

rings  or  links;  (Ff.,  "lymold")  ; 

IV,  ii,  49, 
Girded,  enclosed,  besieged;  Prol. 

III.  27. 
Gleaned,  bare  of  defenders,  un- 
defended; I.  ii.  151. 
Gleeking,  scoffing;  V.  i.  82, 


173 


Glossary 


THE  LIFE  OF 


Glistering,    glittering,    shining; 

II.  ii.  117. 
Gloze,  interpret;  I.  ii.  40. 
Go  ABOUT,  attempt;  IV.  i.  221. 
God  before,  before  God  I  swear; 

I.  ii.  307. 
God-dex,    good    evening,    I    wish 

good  evening;  III.  ii.  95. 
Good  leave,  permission;  V.  ii.  98. 
GoRDiAX    KxoT,    "the    celebrated 

knot    of    the    Phrj'gian     King 

Gordius,  mitied  by  Alexander"; 

I.  i.  46. 

Grace,  ornament;  Prol.  II.  28. 
Graxt;  "in  g.  of,"  by  granting; 

II.  iv.  121. 

Grazing  (Ff.,  2,  3,  4,  "grasing"; 

F.  1,  "erasing") ;  IV.  iii.  105. 
Green LT,  sheepishly,  foolishly;  V. 

ii.  151. 
Groat,  a  coin  worth  four  pence; 

V.  i.  65. 
Gross,  palpable;  II.  ii.  103. 
Guidon,  standard;  (Ff.,  "Guard: 

on");  IV.  ii.  60. 
Gulf,  whirlpool;   II.  iv.   10. 
Gun-stones,  cannon  balls,  which 

were  originally  made  of  stone; 

I.  ii.  282. 

Had,  would  have;  IV.  i.  308. 
Haggled,   cut,   mangled;    IV.   vi. 

11- 
Hampton,    Southampton;    II.    ii. 

91. 
Handkerchers,       handkerchiefs; 

III.  ii.  54. 

Handle,  talk  of;  II.  iii.  42. 
Haply,  perhaps,   perchance;    (F. 

1,  "Happily";  Ff.  2,  3,  "Hap- 

pely")  ;  V.  ii.  93. 
Hard-fa vor'd,  ugly;  III.  i.  8. 
Hardiness,    hardihood,    bravery; 

I.  u.  220. 
Harfleur;      (Ff.,     "Harflew"); 

Prol.  III.   17,  etc. 

1 


Hazard,   (technical  term  of  ten- 
nis) ;  I,  ii.  263. 
Head;  "in  h.,"   in  armed   force; 

II.  ii.  18. 

Headt,  headstrong;  (F.  1,  "head- 
ly" ;    Capell    conj.    "deadly")  \ 

III.  iii.  32. 

Heaps;  "on  heaps";  in  heaps;  V. 
ii.  39. 

Hearts,  courage,  valor;  IV.  i. 
321. 

Held,  witheld,  kept  back;  II.  iv. 
94. 

Helm,  helmet;  IV.  vii.  168, 

Heroical,  heroic;  II.  iv.  59. 

HiLDiNG,  mean,  base;  (Prof. 
Skeat  makes  hilding  a  contrac- 
tion for  hildering  =  M.  E.,  hin- 
derling  =  base,       degenerate) ; 

IV.  ii.  29. 

Hilts,  a  sword;  used  as  singu- 
lar; Prol.  II.  9. 

His,  its;  I.  i.  66. 

Honor-owing,  honorable;  IV.  vi. 
9. 

Hooded,  "a  h.  valor,"  i.  e.  cov- 
ered, hidden  as  the  hawk  is 
hooded  till  it  was  let  fly  at 
the  game;  a  term  of  falconry 
(used  quibblingly) ;  III.  vii. 
127. 

Hoop,  shout  with  surprise;    (Ff. 

I,  2,    "hoope" ;    Theobald, 
"whoop");  II.  ii.  108. 

Hound  of  Crete,  (?)  bloodhound; 
(perhaps  mere  Pistolian  rant)  ; 

II.  i.  81. 

Humorous,  capricious;  II.  iv.  28. 

Humor,  II.  i.  Q2,  64,  78  (used  by 
Nym.) 

Husbandry,  thrift;  IV.  i.  7;  til- 
lage; V.  ii.  39. 

Huswife,  hussy;  V.  i.  90. 

Hydra-headed,  alluding  to  the 
many  headed  serpent,  which 
put  forth  new  heads  as  soon 
74 


KING  HENRY  V 


Glossary 


as  the  others  were  struck  off; 

I.  i.  35. 

Hyperion,  the  god  of  the  Sun; 
(F.  1,  "Hiperio")  ;   IV.  i.  303. 

Iceland  Dog,  (v.  Note) ;  II.  i.  47. 

Ill-favoredly,  in  an  ugly  man- 
ner; IV.  ii.  40. 

Imaginary,  imaginative;  Prol.  I. 
18. 

Imagined,  "i.  wing,"  i.  e.  the 
wings  of  imagination;  Prol. 
HI.  1. 

Imbar,  (?)bar,  exclude;  or,  (?) 
secure  (v.  Note) ;  I.  ii.  94. 

Imp,  scion,  shoot;  IV.  i.  45. 

Impawn,  pawn,  pledge;  I.  ii.  21. 

Impeachment,  hindrance;  III,  vi. 
164. 

In,  into;  I.  ii.  184. 

,  by  reason  of;  I.  ii.  193. 

Incarnate,  misunderstood  by 
Mistress  Quickly  for  the  color, 
and  confused  with  "carnation" ; 

II.  iii.  37. 

Inconstant,  fickle;  Prol.  III.  15. 
Indirectly,    wrongfully;    II.    iv. 

94. 
Infinite,  boimdless;  V.  ii.  167. 
Inghateful,    ungrateful;     II.    ii. 

95. 
Inly,  inwardly;  Prol.  IV.  24. 
Instance,   cause,   motive;    II.    ii. 

119. 
Intendment,    bent,    aim;    I.    ii. 

144. 
Intertissued,  interwoven;   IV.   i. 

290. 
Into,  unto;  I.  ii.  102. 
Is    (so    Ff.;    Qq.,    "are")  ;=  are, 

(by  attraction);  I.  ii.  243. 
Issue,  pour  forth  tears;   IV.  vi. 

34. 
It,  its ;  V,  ii.  40. 


Jack-an-apes,  monkey;  V.  11.  150. 

Jack-sauce,  Saucy  Jack;  IV.  vii. 
153. 

Jades,  a  terra  of  contempt  or 
])ity,  for  ill-conditioned  horses; 
IV.  ii.  46. 

Jealousy,  suspicion,  apprehen- 
sion; II.  ii.  126. 

Jewry,  Judea ;  III.  iii.  40. 

Just,  exact,  precise;  IV.  vil.  126. 

Jutty,  project  beyond;  III.  1.  13. 

Kecksies,     dry     hemlock     stems, 
(Ff.  1,  2,  "keksyes")  ;  V.  11.  52. 
Kern;   "k.   of   Ireland,"  a  light- 
armed    Irish    soldier;    III.    vii. 
60. 

Larding,     enriching,      fattening ; 

(Collier  MS.,  "Loading")  ;  IV. 

vi.  8. 
Late,  lately  appointed;  II.  Ii.  61. 
Lavolta,    a    waltz-like    kind    of 

dance;  III.  v.  33. 
Lay  apart,  put  off,  lay  aside;  IT. 

iv.  78. 
Lay  down,  estimate;  I.  ii.  137. 
Lazars,   beggars,   especially   lep- 
ers; I.  i.  15. 
Leas,  arable  land;  V.  ii.  44. 
Legerity,  alacrity,  lightness;  (Ff. 

3,  4,  "celerity") ;  IV.  1.  23. 
Let,   hindrance,   impediment;   V. 

ii.  65. 
Lief,    gladly,    willingly;     (F.     1, 

"Hue,"   Ff.  3,  4,  "lieve")  ;   III. 

vii.  68. 
Lieu,  "in  1.  of  this,"  i.  e.  in  return 

for  this;  I.  ii.  255. 
LiG,  lie;  III.  ii.  131. 
Like,  likely;  I.  1.  3. 
Likelihood,  probability;  Prol.  V. 

29. 
Likes,  pleases;  Prol.  III.  32. 
Likes  me,  pleases  me;  IV.  i.  16. 


175 


Glossary 


THE  LIFE  OP 


Line,    pedigree;    (Qq.,    "lines"); 

II.  iv.  88. 

Line,  strengthen;  II.  iv.  7. 
Lineal,  lineally  descended ;  in  the 

direct  line  of  descent;  I.  ii.  82. 
L  I  N  G  A  H  E,    Charlemagne's    fifth 

wife   (according  to  Ritson)  ;  I. 

ii.  74. 
Linger   on,   prolong,    draw   out; 

Prol.  II.  31. 
Linstock,  the  stick  which  holds 

the  gunner's  match;  Prol.  III. 

33. 
List,  boundary  limit;  V.  ii.  305. 
List,  listen  to;  I.  i.  43. 
Lob  down,  droop;  IV.  ii.  47. 
Lodging,  entering  into  the  fold; 

III.  vii.  35. 

'Long,  belong;  (Ff.,  "longs")  ;  II. 

iv.  80. 
Loosed,  loosened,  shot  off;   I.  ii. 

207. 
LuxuBious,  lustful;  IV.  iv.  20. 
Luxury,  lust;  III.  v.  6. 

Majesticax,  majestic;  Prol.  III. 
16. 

Marches,  borders,  border-coim- 
try;  I.  ii.  140. 

Masters,  possesses,  is  master  of; 
(Qq.,  "musters") ;  II.  iv.  137. 

Maw,  stomach;  II.  i.  56. 

May,  can;  Prol.  I.  12;  II.  ii.  100. 

Measure,  dancing  (used  equivo- 
cally); V.  ii.  142. 

Meet,  seemly,  proper;  II.  iv.  15. 

Meeteb,  more  fit;  I.  ii.  254. 

Mercenary  blood,  blood  of  mer- 
cenaries, hired  soldiers ;  IV.  vii. 
82. 

Mehvailous,  one  of  Pistol's 
words;  (Ff.  3,  4,  "marvel- 
lous") ;  II.  i.  54. 

MiCKLE,  much,  great;  II.  i.  74. 

Might,  could;  IV.  v.  21. 

Mind,  remind;  IV.  iii.  13. 


Minding,  remembering,  calling  to 
mind;  Prol.  IV.  53. 

Miscarry,  die,  perish;  IV.  i.  160. 

MiscREATE,  falsely  invented;  I.  ii. 
16. 

MisTFUL,  blinded  by  tears;  (Ff. 
"mixtful")  ;  IV.  vi.  34. 

Mistook,  mistaken;  III.  vi.  92. 

MisTREss-couRT,  Suggested  by  the 
game  of  tennis;  II.  iv.  133. 

Model,  image;  Prol.  II.  16. 

Monmouth  caps,  "the  best  caps 
were  formerly  made  at  Mon- 
mouth, where  the  Cappers' 
Chapel  doth  still  remain"  (Ful- 
ler's Worthies  of  Wales) ;  IV. 
vii.  110. 

Morris-dance,  an  old  dance  on 
festive  occasions,  as  at  Whit- 
suntide; the  reason  for  its  con- 
nection with  "Moorish"  is  not 
quite  clear;  perliaps  from  the 
use  of  the  tabor  as  an  accom- 
paniment to  it;  II.  iv.  25. 

Mortified,  killed;  I.  i.  26. 

Mould;  "men  of  m.,"  men  of 
earth,  poor  mortals;  III.  ii.  22. 

Mounted  (technical  term  of  fal- 
conry) ;  IV.  i.  112. 

MoYS,^=^'muys,  or  muids,"  (ac- 
cording to  Cotgrave),=  about 
five  quarters  English  measure; 
27  moys^two  tons  (Donee) 
(not  moi  d'or  as  Johnson  sug- 
gested, a  coin  of  Portuguese 
origin  unknown  in  Shake- 
speare's time)  ;  IV.  iv.  14. 

Much  at  one,  much  about  the 
same;  V.  ii.  211. 

Narrow,  "n.  ocean,"  i.  e.  the  Eng- 
lish Channel;  Prol.  I.  22. 

Native;  "n.  punishment,"  i.  e.  in- 
flicted in  their  own  country ; 
IV.  i.  183. 

Natural,  consonant  to  nature; 
II.  ii.  107. 


176 


KING  HENRY  V 


Glossary 


Net,  specious  sophistry;  I.  ii.  93. 

New,  anew;  IV.  i.  324. 

Nice,  trivial,  prudish;  V.  ii.  303. 

Nicely,  sophistically;  I.  ii.  15; 
fastidiously;  V.  ii.  fl-l. 

Noble,  a  gold  coin  of  the  value 
of  six  shillings  and  eightpence; 
II.  i.  120. 

Nook-shotten  ;  "n.  isle,"  t.  e. 
"isle  spawned  in  a  corner,  or 
flung  into  a  corner";  (War- 
burton  and  others,  "an  isle 
shooting  out  into  capes,  prom- 
ontories, etc.") ;  III.  V.  14. 

Note,  notice,  intelligence;  II.  ii. 
6;  sign;  Prol.  IV.  35. 

Nothing,  "offer  n.,"  i.  e.  no  vio- 
lence; II.  i.  42. 

O,  "wooden  O.",  i.  e.  the  Globe 
Theater,  which  was  of  wood 
and  circular  in  shape  inside, 
though  externally  octagonal ; 
the  sign  of  the  Globe  was  a 
figure  of  Hercules  supporting 
the  Globe,  with  the  motto,  "To- 
tus  mundus  agit  histrionem" ; 
it  is  difficult  to  determine 
whether  the  name  suggested 
the  sign  or  vice  versa;  Prol.  I. 
13. 

Odds,  discord,  contention;  II.  iv. 
129. 

O'erblows,  blows  away;  III.  iii. 
31. 

O'erwhelm,  overhang,  hang 
down  upon;  III.  i.  11. 

Of,  against;  (Qq.,  "on")\  II.  iii. 
32,  34;  with;  III.  vii.  9;  for; 
IV.  i.  115. 

On,  of;  V.  ii.  23. 

Ooze,  soft  mud,  (Qq.,  Ff., 
"owse")  ;  I.  ii.  164. 

Order,  arrange;  Prol.  V.  39. 

Ordnance,  cannon,  (Ff.,  "Ordin- 


XVII— 12 


ttnce";  Qq.,  "ordenance");  tri- 
syllabic; II.  iv.  126. 
Orisons,  prayers;  II.  ii.  53. 
Ostent,  external  show;  Prol.  V. 

21. 
Out,  fully,  completely;  IV.  i.  175. 
Over-bears,  subdues,  bears  down; 

Prol.  IV.  39. 
Overlook,    rise    above,    overtop; 

(Qq.,  "outgrow");  III.  v.  9. 
Over-lusty,  too  lively;  Prol.  IV. 

18. 
Overshot,  beaten  in  shooting,  put 

to  shame;  III.  vii.  140. 

Paction,  alliance;  (Theobald's 
emendation;  Ff.  1,  2,  "pation" ; 
Ff.  3,  4,  "passion")  ;  V.  Ii.  410. 

Paly,  pale;  Prol.  IV.  8. 

Paper,  "thy  cheeks  are  p.",  i.  e. 
white  as  paper,  pale;  II.  ii.  74. 

Parca,  one  of  the  three  Fates 
who  spin  the  threads  of  life; 
V.  i.  23. 

Parle,  parley;  III.  iii.  2. 

Parley,  conference;  III.  ii.  156. 

Part,  side;  I.  i.  73. 

Parts,  divisions  in  music;  I.  ii. 
181.,  from  Holinshed. 

Pass,  passage;  Prol.  II.  39. 

Passes,  v.  "careers." 

Pasterns,  legs;  (F.  1,  "pos- 
tures") ;  III.  vii.  13. 

Pauca,  in  few  words;  II.  i.  87. 

Pax,  a  mistake  for  "pix,"  the 
box  containing  the  consecrated 
host;  ("pax"=:the  small  piece 
of  wood  or  metal,  impressed 
with  the  figure  of  Christ,  which 
the  laity  kissed)  ;  Qq.,  "packs"; 
(Theobald,  from  Holinshed, 
"pix")  ;  III.  vi.  45. 

Pay,  repay,  requite;  IV.  i.  218. 

Peer,  appear;   IV.  vii.  91. 

Peevish,  foolish;  III.  vii.  149. 

Pepin,  "King  P.,"  the  founder  of 


177 


Glossary 


THE  LIFE  OF 


the    Carlovingian    dynasty;    I. 
ii.  65. 
Perdition,  loss;  III.  vi.  111. 
Perdurable,  lasting;  IV.  v.  7. 
Perdy,  par  Dieu,  by  God;  II.  i. 

56. 
Peremptory,  decisive;  V.  ii.  82. 
Perforce,  of  necessity;  V.  ii.  165. 
Pehspectively,  as  in  a  perspective 

picture;  V.  ii.  362. 
Pharamond,     a     King     of     the 

Franks;  I.  ii.  37. 
PiBBLE   PABBLE,  idle  prattle;    IV. 

i.  72. 
Pioners,  pioneers;  III.  ii.  98. 
Pitch  and  pay,  a  proverbial  say- 

ing,="pay   ready   money";    II. 

iii.  58. 
Pith,  force,  strength;  Prol.  III. 

21. 
Plain-song,    simple    air    without 

variations;  a  musical  term;  III. 

ii.  6. 
Play,  play  for;  Prol.  IV.  19. 
Pleasant,  merry,  facetious;  I.  ii. 

381. 
Pleaseth,  may  it  please;   V.  11. 

78. 
Poison'd,  poisonous;  IV.  i.  279. 
Policy;   "cause  of  p.,"   political 

question;  I.  i.  45. 
Popular,  vulgar,  plebeian;  IV.  i. 

38. 
Popularity,  publicity;  I.  i.  59. 
Port,  deportment,  carriage;  Prol. 

I.  6. 
Portage,    porthole;    "p.    of    the 

head,"  i.  e.  eye;  III.  i.  10. 
Possess,  affect,  fill;  IV.  i.  117. 
Practic,  practical;  I.  i.  51. 
Practices,  plots;  II.  ii.  90. 
Precepts,    commands,    summons ; 

III.  iii.  26. 
Preposterously,  against  the  nat- 
ural order  of  things;  II.  ii.  112. 
Prescript,  prescribed;  III.  vii.  52. 


Presence;  "in  p.,"  present;  II. 
iv.  111. 

Present,  immediate;  II.  iv.  67. 

Presenteth,  shows;  (Ff.,  "Pre- 
sented") ;  Prol.  IV.  27. 

Presently,  immediately,  now  at 
once;  II.  i,  97. 

Prey;  "in  p.,"  in  search  of  prey; 

I.  ii.  169. 

Prize,  estimate,  rate;  II.  iv.  119. 
Proceeding  on,  caused  by;  II.  ii. 

54. 
Projection,  plain  calculation;  II. 

iv.  46. 
Proportion,  be  proportioned  to; 

III.  vi.  145. 

Proportions,  calculation,  neces- 
sary numbers;  I.  ii.  137. 

Puissance,  power,  armed  force; 
Prol.  I.  25. 

Puissant,  powerful,  valiant;  I.  ii. 
116. 

Qualtitie    calmie    custuhe    me  ! 

IV.  iv.  4  (vide  Note). 
Question,  discussion;  I.  i.  5, 
Quick,  alive,  living;  II.  ii.  79. 
Quit,  acquit;  II.  ii.  166. 
Quittance,  requital,  recompense; 

II.  ii.  34. 

Quotidian  tertian.  Mistress 
Quickly's  confusion  of  quoti- 
dian fever  (i.  e.  marked  by 
daily  paroxysms),  and  tertian 
fever  (J.  e.  marked  by  parox- 
ysms recurring  every  three 
days)  ;  II.  i.  132. 

Raught,     reached;      (Ff.     3,     4, 

"caught");  IV.  vi.  21. 
Rawly,    without    due    provision ; 

IV.  1.  151. 

Reduce,    reconduct,   bring    back ; 

V.  ii.  63. 

Relapse  of  mortality,  a  rebouml 
of  death;  IV.  iii.  107. 


KING  HENRY  V 


Glossary 


Rekemberixg,  reminding;  Prol. 
V.  43. 

Rendezvous,  one  of  Nym's  blun- 
ders; (Ff.  1,  2,  3,  "ren- 
deuoug") ;  II.  i.  19. 

Renowned,  made  renowned;  I.  ii. 
118. 

Repent,  regret;  II.  ii.  152. 

Requiring,  asking;  II.  iv.  101. 

Resolved,  satisfied;  I.  ii.  4. 

Respect,  reason,  consideration;  V. 
i.  79. 

Rest,  resolve;  (=  stake,  wager; 
technical  term  of  the  old  game 
of  primers)  ;  II.  i.  18. 

Retire,  retreat;  IV.  iii.  86. 

Returns,  answers;  III.  iii.  46. 

Rheumatic,  Mistress  Quickly's 
blunder  for  lunatic;  II.  iii.  43. 

Rim,  midriff;  IV.  iv.  15. 

Rites,  ceremonies,  sacred  ob- 
servances; (Ff.,  "Rights")  ;  IV. 
viii.  130. 

RiVAGE,  sea-shore;  Prol.  III.  14. 

Road,  inroad,  incursions;  I.  ii. 
138. 

Robustious,  sturdy;  III.  vii.  167. 

Root  upon,  take  root  in;  V.  ii. 
46. 

Roping,  hanging  down;  III.  v.  23. 

Round;  "too  r.,"  too  plain-spo- 
ken; IV.  i.  225. 

Rub,  hindrance,  impediment;  II. 
ii.  188. 

Sad-eyed,  grave-looking;  I.  ii. 
202. 

Safeguard,  defend,  keep  safe;  I. 
ii.  176. 

Salique:  "the  law  s.,"  the  law 
appertaining  to  the  Salic  tribe 
of  the  Franks  which  excluded 
females  from  succeeding  to  the 
throne;  I.  ii.  11. 

Sand,  sand-bank;  IV.  i.  102. 

Satisfaction,   conviction;    (Pope 

I 


reads  from  Hall,  "possession")  ; 

I.  ii.  88. 

Savagery,    wild    growth;     V.    ii. 

7. 
'Sblood,    a    corruption    of    God's 

blood;  IV.  viii.  10. 
Scaffold,  stage;  Prol.  I.  10. 
ScAMBLiNG,     scrambling,     turbu- 
lent, I.  i.  4;  struggling,  V.   ii. 

225. 
Scions,     originally     small     twigs 

from    one    tree    grafted    upon 

another;    (Ff.,    "Syens");    III. 

V.  7. 
Sconce,  earthwork;  III.  vi.  81. 
Seat,  throne;  I.  i.  88. 
Security,  over  confidence;  II.  ii, 

44. 
Self,  self-same;  I.  i.  1. 
Set,  set  out;  Prol.  II.  34. 
Severals,  details;  I.  i.  86. 
Shales,  shells;  IV.  ii.  18. 
She,  woman;  II.  i.  87. 
Shog   off,   jog  oflP,   move   off;   a 

cant  term;  II.  i.  51. 
Shows,  appearance;  I.  ii.  72. 
Shows,  appears;  IV.  i.  108. 
Shrewdly,  viciously;  III.  vii.  56. 
Signal,  symbol  of  victory;  Prol. 

V.  21. 
Signs  of  war,  standards,  ensigns; 

II.  ii.  192. 

Silken,  effeminate;  Prol.  II.  2. 
Sinfully,  in  a  state  of  sin;  IV. 

i.  160. 
Sinister,  unfair;  II.  iv.  85. 
Skirr,  scurry,  move  rapidly;  (Ff., 

"sker")i  IV.  vii.  67. 
Slips,  leash;  III.  i.  31. 
Slobbery,    wet    and    foul;     (Qq., 

"foggy'-)  i  III.  v.  13. 
Slovenry,    sloveliness,    want    of 

neatness;  IV.  iii.  114. 
Snatchers,    pilferers,    free-boot- 

ers;    (Qq.,    "sneakers") ;    I.    ii. 

143. 

79 


Glossary 


THE  LIFE  OF, 


Soft,  gentle,  tender-hearted;  III. 
iii.  48. 

S  o  N  A  N  c  E,  sound,  (Ff.,  "So- 
nuance");  IV.  ii.  35. 

Sooth,  truth;  III.  vi.  164. 

Sort,  rank,  degree;  IV.  vii.  146; 
style,  array,  Prol.  V.  25. 

Sorts,  various  ranks;  (Qq.,  Theo- 
bald, "sort";  Collier  MS., 
"slate";  Keightly,  "all  sorts"); 

I.  ii.  190. 

Sorts,  agrees,  fits;  IV.  i.  63. 
Soul;  "thy  s.  of  adoration,"  the 

quintessence    of    the    adoration 

you   enjoy;    (F.    1,   "What?   is 

thy  Soule  of  Odoration?) ;  IV. 

i.  273. 
Speculation,  looking  on;  IV.  ii. 

31. 
Spend;  "s.  their  mouths";  waste, 

a  term  of  the  chase;  II.  iv.  70; 

III.  iii.  24. 
Spirituality,  the  spiritual  peers, 

the  clergy;    (Ff.  3,  4,  "Spint- 

uality") ;  I.  ii.  132. 
Spital,  hospital;  II.  i.  82. 
Sprays,  branches,  shoots;  III.  v. 

5. 
Staixes,  first  stage  on  the  road 

from  London  to  Southampton; 

II.  iii.  2. 

Stands  off,  stand  out,  be  promi- 
nent; (Ff.  2,  3,  4,  "stand  off")  ; 
II.  ii.  103. 

Starts;  "by  s.,"  by  fits,  "by  a 
fragmentary  representation" ; 
Epil.  4. 

Stay,  wait;  IV.  ii.  56. 

Sterxage;  "to  s.  of,"  astern  of, 
Prol.  III.  18. 

Still,  continually,  incessantly;  I. 
ii.  145. 

Stilly,  softly;  Prol.  IV.  5. 

Stood  ox,  insisted  upon ;  V.  ii.  94, 

Stoop,  a  term  of  falconry;  a 
hawk  is  said  "to  stoop,"  when. 


"aloft  upon  her  wing,  she  de- 
scends to  strike  her  prey";  IV. 
i.  113. 
Straight,  straightway,  at  once; 

II.  ii.  191. 

Straix,  stock,  race;  II.  iv.  51. 

Stretch,  open  wide;  II.  ii.  55. 

Strossers,  "strait  str.,"  tight 
breeches;  (Theobald,  "tros- 
sers" ;    Hanmer,    "trous8er8")'y 

III.  vu.  61. 

Struck,  fought;  II.  iv.  54. 
Subscribed,  signed ;  V.  ii.  378. 
Succors;     "of     s.,"     for     succor; 
(Rowe,  "of  whom  succours"); 

III.  iu.  45. 

Suddenly,   soon,   quickly;   V.   ii. 

81. 
Sufferance;  "by  his  s.,"  by  his 

being    suffered    to    go    impun- 

ished;  II.  ii.  46. 
Sufferaxce,    suffering   the    pen- 
alty; II.  u.  159. 
Suggest,    tempt,    seduce;    II.    ii. 

114. 
SuMLESs,  inestimable;  I.  ii.  165. 
Supply;   ["for  the  which  s.,"  for 

the  supply  of  which;]   Prol.  I. 

31. 
Sue-reix'd,    over-riden,    knocked 

up;  III.  V.  19. 
Sutler,  a  seller  of  provisions  and 

liquors  to  a  camp;  II.  i.  124. 
Swashers,  bullies;  III.  ii.  30. 
SwELLixG,    growing    in    interest; 

Prol.  I.  4. 
Swill'd    with,    greedily    gulped 

down  by;  III.  i.  14. 
Sworn   brothers,  bosom   friends, 

pledged  comrades;  II.  i.  13. 
Sympathize    with,    agree    with, 

resemble;  III.  vii.  166. 

Take,  take  fire;  (Qq.,  Capell, 
"talk"),  II.  i.  59;  catch,  meet; 

IV.  i.  246. 


180 


KING  HENRY  V 


Glossary 


Tall,  valiant,  brave;  II.  i.  76. 

Tartar,  Tartarus,  hell;  II.  ii. 
123. 

Tastk,  experience;  II.  ii.  51. 

Taste,  feel,  experience;  IV.  vii. 
71. 

Teems,  brings  forth;  V.  ii.  51. 

Tell;  "I  cannot  tell,"  I  do  not 
know  what  to  say;  II.  i.  23. 

Temper,  disposition;  V.  ii.  156. 

Temper'd,  moulded,  wrought  up- 
on, influenced;  II.  ii.  118. 

Tender,  have  a  care  for;  II.  ii. 
175. 

Tekohs,  purport;  (Ff.,  "Ten- 
ures") ;  V.  ii.  72. 

That,  so  that;  I.  i.  47. 

Theohic,  theory;  I.  i.  52. 

Threaden,  made  of  thread;  Prol. 
III.  10. 

TiDDLE  taddle,  tittlc-tattlc ;  IV. 
i.  72. 

Tike,  cur;  II.  i.  33. 

To,  against;  II.  i.  14;  as,  Prol. 

III.  30;  for;  III.  vii.  67. 
To-morbow;  "on  t.,"  t.  e.  on  the 

morrow,  in  the  morning;  III. 
vi.  194. 

Treasuries,  treasures;   I.  ii.   165. 

Troth-plight,  troth-plighted,  be- 
trothed; II.  i.  22. 

Trumpet,  trumpeter;  IV.  ii.  61; 

IV.  vii.  62. 

Tucket,  a  set  of  notes  on  the  cor- 
net; IV.  ii.  35. 
TwAY,  twain,  two;  III.  ii.  135. 

Umber'd,  darkened  as  by  brown 
ochre,  (here  probably  the  ef- 
fect of  the  fire-light  on  the 
faces  of  the  soldiers) ;  Prol. 
IV.  9. 

Uncoixed;  "u.  constancy,"  i.  e. 
which  like  an  unimpressed 
plain  piece  of  metal,  has  not 


yet  become  current  coin;  V.  ii. 

164. 
Undid,  would  undo;  V.  ii.  140. 
Unfurnish'd,  left  undefended;  I. 

i.  148. 
Unprovided,   unprepared;   IV.   i. 

191. 
Unraised,  wanting  in  aspiration; 

Prol.  I.  9. 
Untempering,  unsoftening;  V.  ii. 

249. 
Upon,  at;  I.  1.  91;  by;  IV.  i.  19. 
Urn,  grave;  I.  ii.  228. 

Vainness,  vanity;  Prol.  V.  20. 

Vasty,  vast,  Prol.  I.  12;  II.  ii. 
123. 

Vaultages,  vaulted  rooms,  cav- 
erns; II.  iv.  124. 

Vaward,  vanguard;  IV.  iii.  130. 

Venge  me,  avenge  myself;  I.  ii. 
292. 

Venture,  run  the  hazard  of;  (F. 
1,  "venter")  ;  I.  ii.  192. 

Vigil,  the  eve  of  a  festival;  IV. 
iii.  45. 

Voice,  vote;  II.  ii.  113. 

Void,  quit ;  I  V.  vii.  65. 

Vulgar,  common  soldiers;  IV. 
vii.  83. 

Wafer-cakes;  "men's  faiths  are 
w.";  i.  e.  "Promises  are  like 
pie  crust";  II.  iii.  57. 

War-proof,  valor  tried  in  war; 
III.  i.  18. 

Watchful  fires,  watch-fires ; 
Prol.  IV.  23. 

Waxen,  easily  efl'aced,  perish- 
able; (Qq.,  "paper");  I.  ii.  233. 

What  though,  what  does  that 
matter;  II.  i.  9. 

Wherefore,  for  which;  V.  ii.   1. 

Wheresome'er,  wheresoever;  II. 
iii.  7. 

Whiffler,  an  officer  who  went  in 


181 


Glossary 

front  of  a  procession;  (orig- 
inally, a  fifer  who  preceded  an 
army  or  a  procession) ;  Prol. 
V.  12. 

White-livered,  cowardly;  III.  ii. 
34. 

Wight,  man,  person  (one  of  Pis- 
tol's words)  ;  II.  i.  68. 

Willing,  desiring;  II.  iv.  90. 

Wills,  wishes,  desires;  II.  iv.  77. 

Wink,  shut  my  eyes;  II.  i.  8. 

Wink'd  at,  connived  at;  II.  ii. 
55. 

Winking,  with  their  eyes  shut; 
III.  vii.  161. 

Withal,  with;  III.  v.  2. 

Woe  the  tvhile  !  alas  for  the 
time!;  IV.  vii.  81. 

WoMBY,  hollow,  capacious;  II.  iv. 
134. 


KING  HENRY  V 

Wooden  dagger,  a  dagger  of  lath 

was    usually    carried    by    the 

Vice  in  the  old  morality  plays; 

IV.  iv.  78. 
Word,  motto  (Rowe  from  Qq.  1, 

3;  Ff.,  Q.  2,  "world")',  II.  iu. 

55. 
Wots,  knows;  IV.  i.  310. 
Would,  would  have,  Prol.  II.  18; 

desire;  V.  ii.  68. 
Wrikging,  suffering,  pain;  IV.  i. 

264. 
Writ,  written;  I.  ii.  98. 

Yearn,  grieve;  (Ff.  1,  2,  "erne  '; 

Ff.    3,   4,    "yern");    II.    iii.    'i; 

yearns,  grieves;  IV.  iii. ,26. 
Yerk,  jerk;  IV.  vii.  86. 
Yoke-fellows,    companions;     Ii. 

iii.  60. 


182 


STUDY  QUESTIONS 

By  Anne  Throop  Craig 

GENERAL 

1.  What  was  the  main  authority  for  the  history  of 
Henry  V,  as  followed  by  the  Poet?  Give  a  general  out- 
line of  the  historical  matter.  To  what  old  play  was  he 
also  indebted  for  some  minor  points? 

2.  What  is  the  duration  of  the  action? 

3.  What  is  the  nature  of  the  theme  and  its  treatment? 

4.  What  in  the  nature  of  the  material  may  have  led  the 
Poet  to  fill  the  play  with  so  much  of  the  lyrical  element? 
What  does  this  striking  infusion  of  the  lyrical  element  in- 
dicate concerning  Shakespeare's  possibilities  in  other  forms 
of  writing? 

5.  In  what  does  the  play  have  its  unity? 

6.  Sketch  Henry's  character  as  displa3^ed  throughout 
the  play? 

7.  What  are  possible  reasons  for  Falstaff's  non-appear- 
ance in  the  play? 

8.  How  has  Shakespeare  given  us  a  means  of  anticipat- 
ing the  outcome  of  the  war  in  this  drama? 

9.  Why  did  Shakespeare  employ  the  prologues  at  the 
beginning  of  each  act?  What  is  the  necessity  of  a  chorus 
apt  to  imply  of  the  structure  of  a  play? 

10.  What  are  hinted  at  as  the  secret  causes  for  the 
undertaking  of  the  French  wars?  Why  were  the}"  to  the 
interest  of  the  clerg}'^? 

11.  What  reason  is  there  for  the  concluding  of  the  play 
in  the  manner  of  comed}^'' 

12.  How  are  we  historically  informed  as  to  the  charac- 
ter of  Henry? 

183 


Study  Questions  THE   LIFE   OF 

13.  What  is  the  principal  historical  feature  of  the  play? 
How  is  it  brought  out? 

14.  Enlarge  upon  the  political  conditions  existent  in 
England  during  this  period,  and  compare  them  with  those 
of  France. 

ACT    I 

15.  What  does  the  Prologue  set  forth? 

16.  What  is  Henry's  resolve  with  regard  to  the  French 
throne  ? 

17.  Upon  what  does  he  base  his  authority? 

18.  Compare  the  comments  of  Ely  and  Canterbury  upon 
the  King. 

19.  What  is  Holinshed's  paraphrase  of  the  Archbishop 
of  Canterbury's  speech  to  the  King  with  regard  to  his 
assertion  of  his  claim  upon  France?  Why  were  the  clergy 
willing  to  contribute  so  heavil^^  to  the  king's  revenues  in 
this  connection? 

20.  From  what  is  it  likely  the  Poet  derived  the  idea  ex- 
pressed by  Exeter  concerning  the  harmonic  organization 
of  government?  Quote  the  original  passages  that  prob- 
ably suggested  it. 

21.  What  insulting  message  does  the  Dauphin  send 
Henry  ? 

22.  What  is  Henry's  replj^?  Give  Holinshed's  narra- 
tive of  this  passage  of  diplomacy. 

ACT   n 

i 

23.  What  ic  the  substance  of  the  second  Prologue? 

24.  Describe  the  first  scene  and  tell  its  purpose  with 
regard  to  circumstances  affecting  the  portrayal  of  Hen- 
ry's character. 

25.  In  scene  ii  what  conspiracy  does  the  king  dis- 
cover? What  lords  were  involved?  What  makes  their 
treachery  particularly  despicable?     What  is  their  fate? 

26.  Describe  the  dramatic  method  of  the  king's  dis- 
closure of  his  knowledge  of  the  plot,  and  his  method  of 

184. 


KING  HENRY  V  Study  Questions 

turning  the  conspirators'  judgment  of  others  upon  them- 
selves. 

27.  What  does  Holinshed  say  of  Scroope  and  the  king's 
goodness  to  him.'' 

28.  What  are  we  told  of  the  end  of  FalstafF.? 

29.  How  does  the  French  Court  receive  Henry's  mes- 
sage.'' What  has  the  Dauphin  to  say  of  the  demands  the 
English  projects  are  likely  to  make  upon  French  re- 
sources.'' and  what  of  Henry  personally? 

30.  What  is  the  Constable's  reply  to  the  Dauphin  with 
regard  to  the  impression  Henry  has  made  upon  the  am- 
bassadors ? 

31.  How  does  Charles  voice  his  respect  for  the  English 
arms.'' 

32.  What  message  is  conveyed  to  the  Dauphin  from 
Henry  in  contempt  of  his  insult.'' 

ACT   in 

33.  Outline  the  matter  of  the  Prologue. 

34.  What  town  is  taken  in  the  first  scene.''  What  are 
the  circumstances,  as  presented,'' 

35.  What  is  the  dramatic  use  of  the  contrast  of  Nym 
and  his  group  of  companions,  and  Fluellen  and  his  com- 
rades .'' 

36.  In  what  way  does  it  help  the  effect  of  Henry's  popu- 
larity to  have  the  group  of  countrymen  from  various 
parts  of  the  British  Islands  introduced  as  his  constituents? 

37.  What  could  have  been  a  dramatic  object  in  intro- 
ducing scene  iv?     Quote  Dr.  Johnson  on  the  subject. 

38.  How  do  the  French  express  their  view  of  English 
valor,  in  scene  v?  What  message  does  France  send  to 
Henry  by  her  herald? 

39.  What  is  Henry's  charge  to  his  army  concerning 
their  treatment  of  the  French  population  along  the  march? 
Of  what  is  this  charge  significant  with  regard  to  certain 
incidents  of  the  Poet's  own  time? 

40.  What  does  Henry  say  to  the  Herald  Mont  joy  of  the 

185 


study  Questions  THE   LIFE    OF 

condition    of   his    own   forces?     Quote   Holinshed   in   this 
matter. 

41.  What  is  the  trend  of  the  French  officers*  talk  and 
banter  at  their  camp  before  Agincourt?  During  it  what 
opinion  does  the  Constable  express  of  the  Dauphin? 

ACT    IV 

42.  Outline  the  Prologue. 

43.  How  is  King  Henry's  spirit  towards  his  army,  and 
towards  the  situation,  shown  in  scene  i?  How  the  senti- 
ment of  his  men  towards  him,  the  war,  and  his  responsi- 
bility as  a  sovereign? 

44.  What  is  the  spirit  and  the  gist  of  Henry's  soliloquy  ? 

45.  Compare  the  spirit  of  the  English  army  with  what 
has  been  shown  of  the  French  army  ? 

46.  Describe  the  incident  of  the  King's  going  incog- 
nito among  his  men.     What  is  its  dramatic  significance? 

47.  What  is  Henry's  prayer  before  the  battle? 

48.  What  is  the  French  attitude  in  their  camp  as  they 
prepare  finally  for  the  fight?  and  how  does  Grandpre  sum 
up  the  condition  of  the  English?  What  is  Holinshed's  de- 
scription of  their  condition  and  the  reason  of  it? 

49.  What  does  Holinshed  say  of  the  overweening  con- 
fidence of  the  French? 

50.  What  were  the  odds  in  the  battle? 

51.  What  wish  does  Westmoreland  express?  What  is 
Henry's  reply  to  it?  What  is  the  final  expression  of 
Westmoreland?  Is  it  typical  of  the  general  English 
spirit  evidenced  on  the  occasion  ? 

52.  What  is  the  final  reply  of  Henry  to  France  through 
her  herald? 

53.  How  does  the  encounter  of  the  French  soldier  and 
Pistol  suggest  the  mettle  of  the  French  common  soldiery 
and  its  likely  effect  upon  the  outcome  of  the  battle  ?  Why 
does  the  choice  of  Pistol  as  the  antagonist  for  the  French 
soldier  put  the  latter's  discomfiture  in  a  particularly  con- 

J86 


KING   HENRY   V  Study  Questions 

temptil)le  light,  and  enhance  the  dramatic  significance  of 
the  incident? 

54.  Describe  the  following  incidents  of  the  battle  and 
the  closing  scenes  of  the  act:  The  death  of  Suffolk  and 
York ;  the  dialogue  between  Gower  and  Fluellen  with  its 
import  concerning  the  killing  of  the  prisoners,  and  its 
commentary  on  the  character  of  Henry ;  the  last  request  of 
France  through  her  herald ;  the  incident  of  Williams  and 
Gower  and  the  glove. 

55.  What  spirit  does  Henry  show  over  the  victory? 

ACT    V 

56.  What  incidents  does  the  Prologue  bridge?  Where 
does  it  lead  the  English  for  the  beginning  of  the  Act? 

57.  With  the  exit  of  Pistol  in  scene  i  what  is  ended  in 
the  historical  series? 

58.  Describe  the  betrothal  of  Henry  and  Katharine. 
What  constitutes  its  charm?  In  what  pleasant  light  is 
Henry  shown  through  it? 

59.  What  conveys  the  reasons  for  the  Fr^mch  King's 
acquiescence  to  Henry's  terms  of  peace? 

60.  What  does  the  Epilogue  forecast? 


187 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 


All  the  unsigned  footnotes  in  this  volume  are  by  the 
writer  of  the  article  to  which  they  are  appended.  The  in- 
terpretation of  the  initials  signed  to  the  others  is:  I.  G. 
=  Israel  Gollancz,  M.A. ;  H.  N.  H.:=  Henry  Norman 
Hudson,  A.M. ;  C.  H.  H.=  C.  H.  Herford,  Litt.D. 


PREFACE 

By    ISRAEI.    GOLLANCZ,    M.A. 
THE    EDITIONS 

As  You  Like  It  was  published  for  the  first  time  in  the 
First  Folio ;  a  Quarto  edition  was  contemplated  many  years 
previously,  but  for  some  cause  or  other  was  "staled,"  and 
the  play  is  mentioned  among  others  in  1623,  when  Jaggard 
and  Blount  obtained  permission  to  print  the  First  Folio, 
as  "not  formerly  entered  to  other  men."  The  text  of  the 
play  in  the  four  Folios  is  substantially  the  same,  though  the 
Second  Folio  corrects  a  few  typographical  and  other  errors 
in  the  first  edition. 

As  You  Like  It  was  in  all  probability  produced  under 
circumstances  necessitating  great  haste  on  the  part  of  the 
author,  and  many  evidences  of  this  rapidity  of  composition 
exist  in  the  text  of  the  play,  e.  g.  (i)  in  Act  I,  sc.  ii,  line 
284,  Le  Beau  makes  Celia  "the  taller,"  which  statement 
seems  to  contradict  Rosalind's  description  of  herself  in  the 
next  scene  (I,  iii,  117),  "because  that  I  am  more  than  com- 
mon tall":  (ii)  again,  in  the  first  Act  the  second  son  of 
Sir  Rowland  de  Boys  is  referred  to  as  "Jaques,"  a  name 
subsequently  transferred  to  another  and  more  important 
character;  wherefore  when  he  appears  in  the  last  Act  he  is 
styled  in  the  Folio  merely  "second  brother":  (iii)  "old 
Frederick,  your  father"  (I,  ii,  87)  seems  to  refer  to  the 
banished  duke  ("Duke  senior"),  for  to  Rosalind,  and  not 
to  Celia,  the  words  "thy  father's  love,"  etc.,  are  assigned  in 
the  Folio ;  either  the  ascription  is  incorrect,  or  "Frederick" 
is  an  error  for  some  other  name,  perhaps  for  "Ferdinand," 
as  has  been  suggested ;  attention  should  also  be  called  to 
certain  slight  inaccuracies,  e.  g.  "Juno's  swans"  (vide  Glos- 

vii 


Preface  AS   YOU    LIKE    IT 

sary)  ;  finally,  the  part  of  Hymen  in  the  last  scene  of  the 
play  is  on  the  whole  unsatisfactory,  and  is  possibly  by  an- 
other hand. 

DATE    OF    COMPOSITION 

(i)  As  You  Like  It  may  safely  be  assigned  to  the  year 
1599,  for  while  the  play  is  not  mentioned  in  Meres'  Palladis 
Tamia,  1598,  it  quotes  a  line  from  Marlowe's  Hero  and 
Leander,  which  was  printed  for  the  first  time  in  that  year 
— five  years  after  the  poet's  death — and  at  once  became 
popular.^  The  quotation  is  introduced  by  a  touching 
tribute  on  Shakespeare's  part  to  the  most  distinguished  of 
his  predecessors: — 

"Dead  Shepherd,  now  I  find  thy  saw  of  might, — ■ 
Who  ever  loved,  that  loved  not  at  firtt  sight." — (III.  v.  82,  83.) 

1  Two  editions  of  Hero  and  Leander  appeared  in  1598.  The  first 
edition  contained  only  Marlowe's  portion  of  the  poem;  the  second 
gave  the  whole  poem,  "Hero  and  Leander:  Begun  by  Christopher 
Marloe  and  finished  by  George  Chapman.  Ut  Nectar,  Ingenium." 
The  line  quoted  by  Shakespeare  occurs  in  the  first  sestiad: — 
"Where  both  deliberate,  the  love  is  slight: 
Who  ever  lov'd,  that  lov'd  not  at  first  sight?" 

There  are  many  quotations  from  the  poem  in  contemporary  literature 
after  1598;  they  often  help  us  to  fix  the  date  of  the  composition  in 
which  they  appear;  e.  g.  the  Pilgrimage  to  Parnassus  must  have  been 
acted  at  Cambridge  not  earlier  than  Christmas,  1598,  for  it  contains 
the  line  "Learning  and  Poverty  must  always  kiss,"  also  taken  from 
the  first  sestiad  of  the  poem.  No  evidence  has  as  yet  been  discovered 
tending  to  show  that  Hero  and  Leander  circulated  while  still  in  MS. 

It  is  at  times  difficult  to  resist  the  temptation  of  comparing  the 
meeting  of  Marlowe's  lovers  and  Shakespeare's  Romeo  and  Juliet. 
The  passage  in  Marlowe  immediately  follows  the  line  quoted  in 
As  You  Like  It;  cp,: — 

"He  kneel' d:  hut  unto  her  devoutly  prayed: 

Chaste  Hero  to  herself  thus  softly  said, 

'Were  I  the  saint  he  worships,  I  would  hear  him.*    .     .     . 

These  lovers  parled  by  the  touch  of  hands." 

Cp.  Romeo  and  Juliet's  first  meeting,  where  Romeo  ("the  pilgrim") 
comes  to  "the  holy  shrine"  of  Juliet:  "palm  to  palm  is  holy  palmers' 
kiss,"  etc.  If  in  this  case  there  is  any  debt  at  all,  it  must  be  Mar- 
lowe's. 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Preface 

(ii)  In  the  Stationers'  Registers  there  is  a  rough  memo- 
randum dated  August  4,  without  any  year,  seemingly  under 
the  head  of  "my  lord  chamberlens  menus  plaies,"  to  the 
effect  that  As  You  Like  It,  together  with  Henry  the  Fifth, 
Every  man  In  His  Humour,  and  Much  Ado  about  Nothing, 
are  "to  be  staied."  This  entry  may  be  assigned  to  the 
year  1600,  for  later  on  in  the  same  month  of  that 
year  the  three  latter  plays  were  entered  again  ;  moreover  the 
previous  entry  bears  the  date  May  27,  1600. 

THE    SOURCES 

The  plot  of  As  You  Like  It  was  in  all  probability  ^  di- 
rectly derived  from  a  famous  novel  by  Shakespeare's  con- 
temporary Thomas  Lodge,  entitled  ""Rosalynde,  Euphues' 
Golden  Legacie;  found  after  his  death  in  his  cell  at  Sil- 
exedra;  bequeathed  to  Philautus'  sons  nursed  up  with  their 
father  in  England:  fetcht  from  the  Canaries  by  T.  L. 
Gent."  The  first  edition  of  the  book  appeared  in  1590, 
and  many  editions  were  published  before  the  end  of  the 
century  {cp.  Shakespeare's  Library,  ed.  W.  C.  Hazlitt,  Vol. 
II,  where  the  1592  edition  of  the  novel  is  reprinted). 

Lodge's  Rosalynde  is  in  great  part  founded  upon  the  old 
Tale  of  Gamelyn,  formerly  erroneously  attributed  to  Chau- 
cer as  the  Cook's  Tale,  but  evidently  it  was  the  poet's  in- 
tention to  work  up  the  old  ballad  into  the  Yeoman's  Tale; 
none  of  the  black-letter  editions  of  Chaucer  contains  the 
Tale,  which  was  not  printed  till  1721 ;  Lodge  must  there- 
fore have  read  it  in  manuscript;  ^  (cp.  The  Tale  of  Gam- 
elyn, ed.  by  Prof.  Skeat,  Oxford,  1884).  The  story  of 
Gamelyn  the  Outlaw,  the  prototype  of  Orlando,  belongs  to 
the  Robin  Hood  cycle  of  ballads,  and  the  hero  often  ap- 

1  Some  have  supposed  that  there  was  an  older  drama  intermediate 
between  As  You  Like  It  and  Lodge's  Rosalynde;  there  is  absolutely 
no  evidence  to  support  such  a  supposition. 

2  Harleian  MS.  7,334  is  possibly  the  first  MS.  that  includes  Game- 
lyn; it  is  quite  clear  in  the  MS.  that  the  scribe  did  not  intend  it  to 
be  taken  for  the  Cook's  Tale  (cp.  Ward's  Catalogue  of  British 
Museum  Romances,  Vol.  I.  p.  508). 

ix 


Preface  AS   YOU  LIKE   IT 

pears  in  these  under  the  form  of  "Gandeleyn,"  '"GarnweW; 
Shakespeare  himself  gives  us  a  hint  of  this  ultimate  origin 
of  his  storj: — ^^They  say  he  is  already  in  the  Forest  af 
Arden,  and  a  many  merry  men  uith  him;  and  there  they 
live  like  the  old  Robin  Hood  of  England''  (I,  i,  120-2).^ 

The  Tale  of  Gamelyn  tells  how  "Sire  Johan  of  Boundys" 
leaves  his  possessions  to  three  sons  Johan,  Ote,  and 
Gamelyn ;  the  eldest  neglects  the  youngest,  who  endures  his 
ill-treatment  for  sixteen  years.  One  day  he  shows  his 
prowess  and  wins  prizes  at  a  wrestling  match:  he  invites 
all  the  spectators  home.  The  brothers  quarrel  after  the 
guests  have  gone,  and  Johan  has  Gamelyn  chained  as  a 
madman.  Adam  the  Spencer,  his  father's  old  retainer,  re- 
leases him,  and  they  escape  together  to  the  woods ;  Gamelyn 
becomes  a  king  of  the  outlaws.  Johan,  as  sheriff  of  the 
county,  gets  possession  of  Gamelyn  again ;  Ote  the  second 
brother  bails  him  out ;  he  returns  in  time  to  save  his  bail ; 
finally  he  condemns  Johan  to  the  gallows. 

There  is  no  element  of  love  in  the  ballad;  at  the  end  it 
is  merely  stated  that  Gamelyn  wedded  "a  wyf  bothe  good 
and  feyr."  This  perhaps  suggested  to  Lodge  a  second 
plot — viz.,  the  stor}'  of  the  exiled  King  of  France,  Geris- 
mond ;  of  his  daughter  Rosalynd's  love  for  the  young 
wrestler;  of  her  departure  (disguised  as  a  page  called 
"Ganimede")  with  Alinda  (who  changes  her  name  to 
Aliena)  from  the  Court  of  the  usurper  King  Torismond; 
and  of  the  story  of  Montanus,  the  lover  of  Phcebe.  The 
old  knight  is  named  by  Lodge  "Sir  John  of  Bordeaux,"  and 
the  sons  are  Saladyne,  Fcrnandine,  and  Rosader.  Adam 
Spencer  is  retained  from  the  old  Tale.^     The  scene  is  Bor- 

1  "Arden"  has  taken  the  place  of  "Sherwood";  but  this  is  due  to 
Lodge,  who  localizes  the  story;  the  Tale  of  Gamelyn,  however,  gives 
no  place  at  all.  The  mere  phrase  "a  many  merry  men"  suggests  a 
reminiscence  of  Robin  Hood  ballads  on  Shakespeare's  part.  "Robin 
Hood  plays"  were  not  uncommon  at  the  end  of  the  sixteenth  century, 
e.  g.  George-A-Oreen,  Downfall  and  Death  of  Robert,  Earl  of 
Hungtington,  &c.  To  the  abiding  charm  of  Robin  Hood  and  Maid 
Marian  we  owe  the  latest  of  pastoral  plays,  Tennyson's  Foresters. 

2  This   is    an    old    tradition   presei  ■.  ed   by   Oldys   and   Capell   that 


AS    YOU   LIKE    IT  Preface 

deaux  and  the  Forest  of  Ardennes.  A  noteworthy  point 
is  the  attempt  made  by  a  band  of  robbers  to  seize  AHena ; 
slic  is  rescued  by  Rosader  and  Saladyne ;  this  gives  some 
motive  for  her  ready  acceptance  of  the  elder  brother's  suit ; 
the  omission  of  this  saving  incident  by  Shakespeare  pro- 
duces the  only  unsatisfactory  element  in  the  whole  play. 
"Nor  can  it  well  be  worth  any  man's  while,"  writes  Mr. 
Swinburne,^  "to  say  or  to  hear  for  the  thousandth  time 
that  As  You  Like  It  would  be  one  of  those  works  which 
prove,  as  Landor  said  long  since,  the  falsehood  of  the  stale 
axiom  that  no  work  of  man  can  be  perfect,  were  it  not  for 
that  one  unlucky  slip  of  the  brush  which  has  left  so  ugly 
a  little  smear  on  one  corner  of  the  canvas  as  the  betrothal 
of  Oliver  to  Celia ;  though  with  all  reverence  for  a  great 
name  and  a  noble  memory,  I  can  hardly  think  that  matters 
were  much  mended  in  George  Sand's  adaptation  of  the 
play  ^  by  the  transference  of  her  hand  to  Jaques." 

Shakespeare  has  varied  the  names  of  the  three  sons ;  of 
the  rightful  and  usurping  kings  {Duke  Senior  and  Freder- 
ick) ;  Alinda  becomes  Celia,  Monfanus  is  changed  to  Syl- 
vius. In  the  novel  Alinda  and  Rosalind  go  on  their  trav- 
els as  lady  and  page;  in  the  play  as  sister  and  brother. 
The  character  of  Jaques,  Touchstone,  and  Audrey,  have 
no  prototypes  in  the  original  story.  Various  estimates 
have  been  formed  of  Lodge's  Rosalynde;  some  critics  speak 
of  it  as  "one  of  the  dullest  and  dreariest  of  all  the  ob- 

Shakespeare  himself  took  the  part  of  Old  Adam.  The  former  nar- 
rates that  a  younger  brother  of  the  poet  recalled  in  his  old  age 
that  he  had  once  seen  him  act  a  part  iii  one  of  his  own  comedies, 
"Wherein  being  to  personate  a  decrepit  old  man,  he  wore  a  lonrj 
beard,  and  appeared  so  weak  and  drooping  and  unable  to  walk,  thai 
he  was  forced  to  be  supported  and  carried  by  another  to  a  table, 
at  which  he  ivas  seated  among  some  company,  who  were  eating,  and 
one  of  them  sung  a  song."  [N.  B. — Shakespeare's  brothers  pre- 
deceased him.] 

1  A  Study  of  Shakespeare. 

-  iMr.  Swinburne  alludes  to  George  Sand's  Comme  II  Vou-s  Plaira; 
an  analysis  of  which  is  to  be  found  in  the  Variorum  As  You  Like  It, 
edited  by  H.  H.  Furness, 


Preface  AS   YOU   LIKE  IT 

scure  literary  performances  that  have  come  down  to  us 
from  past  ages,"  others  regard  it  with  enthusiasm  as  "in- 
formed with  a  bright  poetical  spirit,  and  possessing  a  pas- 
toral charm  which  may  occasionally  be  compared  with  the 
best  parts  of  Sidney's  Arcadia.''  Certainly  in  many  places 
the  elaborate  euphuistic  prose  serves  as  a  quaint  frame- 
work for  some  dainty  "Sonetto,"  "Eglog,"  or  "Song";  the 
xvith  lyric  in  the  Golden  Treasure/  of  Songs  and  Lyrics 
may  at  least  vindicate  the  novel  from  the  attacks  of  its  too 
harsh  critics. 

ALL    THE    world's    A    STAGE 

(i)  It  is  an  interesting  point  that  the  original  of  these 
words,  "Totus  mundus  agit  histrioneTn,"  was  inscribed  over 
the  entrance  to  the  Globe  Theater ;  as  the  theater  was  prob- 
ably opened  at  the  end  of  1599,  the  play  containing  the 
elaboration  of  the  idea  may  have  been  among  the  first  plays 
produced  there.  According  to  a  doubtful  tradition  the 
motto  called  forth  epigrams  from  Jonson  and  Shakespeare. 
Oldys  has  preserved  for  us  the  following  lines: — 

Jonson. —  "If,  but  stage  actors,  all  the  world  displays, 

Where  shall  ice  find  spectators  of  their  plays?" 

Shakespeare. — "Little,  or  much,  of  what  we  see,  we  do; 

We're  all  both  actors  and  spectators  too." 

The  motto  is  said  to  be  derived  from  one  of  the  frag- 
ments of  Petronius,  where  the  words  are  "quod  fere  totus 
mundus  exerceat  histrioniam."  ^  The  idea,  however,  was 
common  in  Elizabethan  literature,  e.  g.  "Pythagoras  said, 
that  this  world  was  like  a  stage,  whereon  many  play  their 
parts''  (from  the  old  play  of  Damon  and  Pythias) ;  Shake- 
speare had  himself  already  used  the  idea  in  The  Merchant 
of  Venice  (I,  i) : — "7  hold  the  world  but  as  the  world, 
Gratiano;  A  stage  where  every  man  must  play  a  part." 

(ii)  It  should  be  noted  that  Jaques'  moralizing  is  but 
an  enlargement  of  the  text  given  out  to  him  by  the 
Duke  :— 

1  The  reading  is  variously  given  as  histrionem  and  histrioniam, 

xii 


AS   YOU   LIKE   IT  Preface 

"Thou  seest  ice  are  not  all  alone  unhappy: 

This  wide  and  universal  theatre 
Presents  more  woeful  pageants  than  the  scene 

Wherein  we  play  in." 

Now  "this  wide  and  universal  theater"  reminds  one 
strongly  of  a  famous  book  which  Shakespeare  may  very 
well  have  known,  viz.,  Boissard's  Theatrum  Vitce  Humancc 
(published  at  Metz,  1596),  the  opening  chapter  of  which 
is  embelHshed  with  a  remarkable  emblem  representing  a 
huge  pageant  of  universal  misery,  headed  with  the  lines : — 

"VitCB  Humance  est  tanquam 
Theatrum  omnium  miseriarum" ; 

beneath  the  picture  are  words  to  the  same  effect : — 
"Vita  hominis  tanquam,  circus  vel  grande  theatrum." 

(iii)  The  division  of  the  life  of  man  into  fourteen,  ten, 
or  seven  periods  is  found  in  Hebrew,  Greek,  and  Roman 
literature  {cp.  ArchcBologia,  Vol.  XXXV,  167-189;  Low's 
Die  Lebensalter  in  der  Jiidischen  Literatur;  cp.  also  Sir 
Thomas  Browne's  Vulgar  Errors,  iv,  12).  In  the  fifteenth 
century  the  representation  of  the  "seven  ages"  was  a  com- 
mon theme  in  literature  and  art;  e.  g,  (i)  in  Arnold's 
Chronicle,  a  famous  book  of  the  period,  there  is  a  chapter 
entitled  "the  vij  ages  of  man  living  in  the  world";  (ii) 
a  block-print  in  the  British  Museum  gives  seven  figures 
"Infans,"  "Pueritia,"  ''Adolescentia,"  "Juventus,"  "Vir- 
ilitas,"  "Senectus,"  "Decrepitas,"  which  practically,  in  sev- 
eral cases,  illustrate  the  words  of  Jaques;  (iii)  the  alle- 
gorical mosaics  on  the  pavement  of  the  Cathedral  at  Siena 
picture  forth  the  same  seven  acts  of  life's  drama. 

There  should  be  somewhere  a  Moral  Play  based  on 
Jaques'  theme  of  life's  progress :  it  might  perhaps  be  said 
that  the  spirit  of  the  dying  Drama  of  Allegory  lived  on  in 
the  person  of  "Monsieur  Melancholy" ;  he  may  well  be 
likened  to  the  Presenter  of  some  old  "Enterlude  of  Youth, 
Manhood,  and  Age" ;  Romantic  Comedy  was  not  for  him ; 

1  Cp.  Shakespeare  and  the  Emblem  Writers,  by  H.  Green,  1870. 

xiii 


Preface  AS    YOU    LIKE    IT 

Kveryman,  Lusty  Juvenius^  Mundus  et  Infans,  and  such 
like  endless  moralizings  on  the  World,  the  Flesh,  and  the 
Devil,  were  more  to  his  taste. 

THE    SCENE    OF    ACTION 

The  locality  of  the  play  is  "the  Forest  of  Arden,"  i.  e. 
"Ardennes,"  in  the  north-east  of  France,  "between  the 
Meuse  et  Moselle,"  but  Shakespeare  could  liardly  help 
thinking  of  his  own  Warwickshire  Arden,  and  there  can  be 
little  doubt  that  his  contemporaries  took  it  in  the  same 
way.  There  is  a  beautiful  description  of  this  English  For- 
est in  Drayton's  Polyolbion  (Song  xiii),  where  the  poet 
apostrophizes  Warwickshire  as  his  own  "native  country 
which  so  brave  spirits  hast  bred.''  The  whole  passage,  as 
Mr.  Furness  admirably  points  out,  probably  serves  to  show 
"the  deep  impression  on  him  which  his  friend  Shakespeare's 
As  You  Like  It  had  made."  Elsewhere  Drayton  refers  to 
"Sweet  Arden's  Nightingales^"  e.  g.  in  his  Matilda  and  in 
the  Idea: — 

"Where  nightingales  in  Arden  sit  and  sing 
Amongst  the  dainty  dew-inipearled  flowers" 

THE    TITLE    OF    THE    PLAT 

The  title  As  You  Like  It,  was  evidently  suggested  by  a 
passage  in  Lodge's  Address  to  the  Gentlemen  Readers: — 
"To  be  brief,  gentlemen,  room  for  a  soldier  and  a  sailor, 
that  gives  3'ou  the  fruits  of  his  labors  that  he  wrote  in  the 
ocean,  where  every  line  was  wet  with  the  surge,  and  every 
humorous  passion  counterchecked  with  a  storm.  If  you 
like  it  so;  and  yet  I  will  be  yours  in  duty,  if  you  be  mine 
in  favor."  It  was  formerly  believed  (by  Tieck  and  others) 
that  the  title  alluded  to  the  concluding  lines  of  Ben  Jon- 
son's  Cynthia's  Revels: — 

"I'll  only  speak  what  I  have  heard  him  say, 
'By — 'tis  good,  and  if  you  like  't  you  may.'" 
xiv 


I 


AS   YOU    LIKE   IT  Preface 

But  Shakespeare's  play  must  have  preceded  Jonson's  dra- 
matic satire,  which  was  first  acted  in  1600. 

DURATION    OF    ACTION 

The  time  of  the  play,  according  to  Mr.  Daniel's  Analysis 
{Trans,  of  New  Shakespere  Soc,  1877-79),  may  be  taken 
as  ten  days  represented  on  the  stage,  with  necessary  inter- 
vals : — 

Day  1.  Act  I,  i. 

Day  2.  Act  I,  ii  and  iii,  and  Act  II,  i.      [Act  II,  iii.] 

Day  3.  Act  II,  ii  [Act  III,  i].  An  interval  of  a  few 
days.     The  journey  to  Arden. 

Day  4.  Act  II,  iv. 

Day  5.  Act  II,  v,  vi,  and  vii.  An  interval  of  a  few 
days. 

Day  6.  Act  III,  ii.     An  interval. 

Day  7.  Act  III,  iii. 

Day  8.  Act  III,  iv  and  v ;  Act  IV,  i,  ii,  and  iii  •  and  Act 
V,  i. 

Day  9.  Act  V,  ii  and  iii. 

Day  10.  Act  V,  iv. 

The  scenes  in  brackets  are  out  of  their  actual  order. 
"The  author  seems  to  have  gone  back  to  resume  these 
threads  of  the  story  which  were  dropped  while  other  parts 
of  the  plot  were  in  hand." 


TV 


INTRODUCTION 

By  Henry  Norman  Hudson,  A.M. 

As  You  Like  It,  along  with  two  other  of  Shakespeare's 
plays  and  one  of  Ben  Jonson's,  Avas  entered  in  the  Station- 
ers' Register  August  4,  1600,  and  that  opposite  the  entry 
was  an  order  "to  be  stayed."  In  regard  to  the  other  two 
the  stay  appears  to  have  been  soon  removed,  as  both  were 
entered  again,  one  on  the  fourteenth,  the  other  on  the 
twenty-third,  of  the  same  month,  and  were  published  in  the 
course  of  that  year.  Touching  As  You  Like  It,  the  stay 
seems  to  have  been  kept  up,  perhaps  because  its  continued 
success  on  the  stage  made  the  company  unwilling  to  part 
with  their  interest  in  it.  The  play  was  never  printed,  so 
far  as  we  know,  till  in  the  folio  of  1623,  where  it  stands  the 
tenth  in  the  division  of  Comedies,  with  the  acts  and  scenes 
regularly  marked. 

This  is  the  only  contemporary  notice  of  As  You  Like  It 
that  has  been  discovered.  The  play  is  not  mentioned  by 
Meres,  which  perhaps  warrants  the  inference  that  it  had  not 
been  heard  of  at  the  date  of  his  list.  And  in  Act  V,  sc.  iii, 
is  a  line  quoted  from  Marlowe's  version  of  Hero  and 
Leander,  which  was  first  printed  in  1598.  So  that  we  may 
perhaps  safely  conclude  that  the  play  was  written  in  the 
latter  part  of  1598,  or  in  the  course  of  the  next  year. 

One  thing  more  there  is,  that  ought  not  to  be  passed  by 
in  this  connection.  Gilbert  Shakespeare,  a  brother  of  the 
Poet,  lived  till  after  the  Restoration ;  and  Oldys  tells  of 
"the  faint,  general,  and  almost  lost  ideas"  the  old  man  had 
of  having  once  seen  the  Poet  act  a  part  in  one  of  his  own 
comedies,  "wherein,  being  to  personate  a  decrepit  old  man, 
he  wore  a  long  beard,  and  appeared  so  weak  and  drooping, 

xvi 


AS   YOU   LIKE   IT  Introduction 

and  unable  to  walk,  that  he  was  forced  to  be  supported 
and  carried  by  another  person  to  a  table,  at  which  he  was 
seated  among  some  company,  who  were  eating,  and  one 
of  them  sung  a  song."  This,  of  course,  could  have  been 
none  other  than  the  "good  old  man"  Adam,  in  and  about 
whom  we  have  so  much  of  noble  thought ;  and  we  thus  learn 
that  his  character,  beautiful  enough  in  itself,  yet  more 
beautiful  for  this  circumstance,  was  sustained  by  the  Poet 
himself. 

In  regard  to  the  originals  of  this  play,  two  sources  have 
been  pointed  out,  namely,  The  Cokeys  Tale  of  Gamelyn, 
sometime  attributed  to  Chaucer,  but  upon  better  advice  ex- 
cluded from  his  works,  and  a  novel  by  Thomas  Lodge  enti- 
tled Rosalynd:  Euphues'  Golden  Legacie.  As  the  Tale  of 
Gamelyn  was  not  printed  till  more  than  a  century  later, 
it  has  been  questioned  whether  Shakespeare  ever  saw  it. 
Nor,  indeed,  can  much  be  alleged  as  indicating  that  he  did : 
one  point  there  is,  however,  that  may  have  some  weight 
that  way.  An  old  knight,  Sir  Johan  of  Boundis,  being 
about  to  die,  calls  in  his  wise  friends  to  arrange  the  dis- 
tribution of  his  property  among  his  three  sons.  Their 
plan  is,  to  settle  all  his  lands  on  the  eldest,  and  leave  the 
youngest  without  any  thing.  Gamelyn  being  his  favorite 
son,  he  rejects  their  advice,  and  bestows  the  largest  portion 
upon  him.  Shakespeare  goes  much  more  according  to 
their  plan,  Orlando,  who  answers  to  Gamelyn,  having  no 
share  in  the  bulk  of  his  father's  estate.  But  this  suits  so 
well  with  the  Poet's  general  purpose,  and  especially  with  the 
unfolding  of  Orlando's  character,  that  we  need  not  sup- 
pose him  to  have  had  any  hint  for  it  but  the  fitness  of  the 
thing  itself.  A  few  other  resemblances  may  be  traced, 
wherein  the  play  differs  from  Lodge's  novel,  but  none  so 
strong  but  that  they  may  well  enough  have  been  incidental. 
Nor,  in  truth,  is  the  matter  of  much  consequence,  save  as 
bearing  upon  the  question  whether  Shakespeare  was  of  a 
mind  to  be  unsatisfied  with  such  printed  books  as  lay  in  his 
way.  We  would  not  exactly  affirm  him  to  have  been  "a 
hunter  of  manuscripts";  but  we  have  already  seen  indi- 

xvii 


Ii>troduction  AS   YOU  LIKE  IT 

cations  that  he  sometimes  had  access  to  them :  nor  is  it  at 
all  unlikely  that  one  so  greedy  of  intellectual  food,  so  eager 
and  apt  to  make  the  most  of  all  the  means  within  his  reach, 
should  have  gone  beyond  the  printed  resources  of  his  time. 
Besides,  there  can  be  no  question  that  Lodge  was  very  fa- 
miliar with  the  Tale  of  Gamely n:  he  follows  it  so  closely  in 
a  large  part  of  his  novel,  as  to  leave  scarce  any  doubt  that 
he  wrote  with  the  manuscript  by  him  ;  and  if  he,  who  was 
also  sometime  a  player,  availed  himself  of  such  sources,  why 
ma}'  not  Shakespeare  have  done  the  same? 

Lodge's  Rosalynd  was  first  printed  in  1590,  and  its  popu- 
larity appears  in  that  it  was  republished  in  1592,  and 
again  in  1598.  Steevens  pronounces  it  a  "worthless  orig- 
inal";  but  this  sweeping  sentence  is  so  very  unjust  as  to 
breed  a  doubt  whether  he  had  read  it.  A  graduate  of  Ox- 
ford, Lodge  was  evidently  something  of  a  scholar,  as  well 
as  a  man  of  wit,  fancy,  and  invention.  Compared  with  the 
general  run  of  popular  literature  then  in  vogue,  his  novel 
has  much  merit,  and  is  ver^^  well  entitled  to  the  honor  of 
contributing  to  one  of  the  most  delightful  poems  ever  writ- 
ten. A  rather  ambitious  attempt,  indeed,  at  fine  writing, 
pedantic  in  style,  not  a  little  overloaded  with  the  euphuism 
of  the  time,  and  occasionally  running  into  absurditv  and  in- 
decorum, nevertheless,  upon  the  whole,  it  is  a  varied  and 
pleasing  narrative,  with  passages  of  great  force  and  beauty, 
and  many  touches  of  noble  sentiment,  and  sometimes  in- 
formed with  a  pastoral  sweetness  and  simplicity  quite 
charming.  The  work  is  inscribed  to  Lord  Hunsdon,  and  in 
his  Dedication  the  author  says, — "Having  with  Captain 
Clarke  made  a  voyage  to  the  islands  of  Terceras  and  the 
Canaries,  to  beguile  the  time  with  labor  I  writ  this  book ; 
rough,  as  hatch'd  in  the  storms  of  the  ocean,  and  feathered 
in  the  surges  of  many  perilous  seas."  It  has  been  lately 
republished  in  Mr.  Collier's  Shakespeare  Library.  We  will 
endeavor  such  an  abstract  from  which  the  nature  and  ex- 
tent of  the  Poet's  obligations  in  this  quarter  may  be  pretty 
fairly  gathered. 

Sir  John  of  Bordeaux,  being  at  the  point  of  death,  called 

xviii 


AS    YOU    LIKE   IT  introduction 

in  his  three  sons,  Saladjne,  Fernandine,  and  Rosader,  and 
divided  his  wealth  among  thcni,  giving  to  the  eldest  four- 
teen ploughlands,  with  all  his  manor  houses,  and  richest 
plate ;  to  the  next,  twelve  ploughlands ;  to  the  youngest,  his 
horse,  armor,  and  lance,  with  sixteen  ploughlands ;  accom- 
panying the  testament  with  divers  precepts  and  motives  to 
a  well-ordered  life.  The  father  being  dead,  Saladyne, 
after  a  short  season  of  hypocritical  mourning,  went  to 
studying  how  he  might  defraud  his  brothers  and  ravish 
their  legacies.  Acting  as  their  guardian,  he  put  Fernan- 
dine to  school  at  Paris,  and  kept  Rosader  as  his  foot-boy. 
Having  borne  this  patiently  for  three  years,  Rosader's 
spirit  at  length  began  to  rise  against  it:  he  said  to  him- 
self,— "Nature  hath  lent  me  wit  to  conceive,  but  my  brother 
denied  me  art  to  contemplate :  I  have  strength  to  perform 
any  honorable  exploit,  but  no  liberty  to  accomplish  my  vir- 
tuous endeavors:  those  good  parts  that  God  hath  bestowed 
upon  me,  the  envy  of  my  brother  doth  smother  in  obscur- 
it3\"  With  that,  casting  up  his  hand,  he  felt  hair  on  his 
face,  and,  perceiving  his  beard  to  bud,  for  choler  he  began 
to  blush,  and  swore  to  himself  he  would  be  no  more  subject 
to  such  slavery.  While  he  was  thus  ruminating  Saladyne 
came  along,  and  began  to  jerk  him  with  rough  speeches, 
asking  him, — "What,  sirrah!  is  my  dinner  ready?"  He 
answered, — "Dost  thou  ask  me  for  thy  cates.''  ask  some  of 
thy  churls  who  are  fit  for  such  an  office.  Let  me  question 
thee,  why  thou  hast  felled  my  woods,  spoiled  my  manor 
houses,  and  made  havoc  of  what  my  father  bequeathed  me? 
Answer  me  as  a  brother,  or  I  will  trouble  thee  as  an 
enemy."  Saladyne  meeting  this  question  with  insulting 
threats,  Rosader  at  last  seized  a  great  rake,  and  let  drive 
at  him,  and  soon  brought  him  to  terms.  Feigning  sorrow^ 
for  what  he  had  done,  he  drew  the  youth,  who  was  of  a 
free  and  generous  nature,  into  a  reconciliation,  till  he 
might  gain  time  to  finish  him  out  of  the  way  ;  and  in  this 
state  they  continued  for  a  season. 

Meanwhile,  Torismond,  who  had  driven  his  brother  Geris- 
mond,  the  rightful  king  of  France,  into  exile,  and  usurped 

xix 


Introduction  AS   YOU   LIKE   IT 

his  crown,  appointed  a  day  of  wrestling  and  tournament, 
to  busy  the  people's  thoughts,  and  keep  them  from  run- 
ning upon  the  banished  king.  At  that  time,  a  Norman 
of  tall  stature  and  great  strength,  who  had  wrestled  down 
as  many  as  undertook  with  him,  and  often  killed  them 
outright,  was  to  stand  against  all  comers.  Saladyne, 
thinking  this  an  apt  occasion  to  put  his  treachery  in  play, 
went  to  the  Norman  secretly,  and  engaged  him  with  rich 
rewards  to  despatch  Rosader,  in  case  he  came  within  his 
grasp.  He  then  went  to  Rosader,  to  prick  him  on  to  the 
wrestling,  telling  him  how  much  honor  it  would  bring  him, 
and  how  he  was  the  only  one  to  keep  up  the  renown  of  the 
family.  The  youth,  full  of  heroic  thoughts,  was  glad 
enough  of  such  an  opportunity,  and  forthwith  set  out  for 
the  place.  At  the  time  appointed,  Torismond  went  forth 
to  preside  over  the  exercises,  attended  by  the  twelve  peers 
of  France,  his  daughter  Alinda,  Rosalynd,  the  daughter  of 
the  banished  king,  and  all  the  most  famous  beauties  of  the 
kingdom.  Rosalynd,  "upon  whose  cheeks  there  seemed  a 
battle  between  the  graces,"  was  the  center  of  attraction, 
the  banquet  of  all  eyes,  "and  made  the  cavaliers  crack  their 
lances  with  more  courage."  The  tournament  over,  the 
Norman  presented  himself  as  a  general  challenger  at  wrest- 
ling. For  some  time  none  durst  adventure  with  him,  till 
at  last  there  came  in  a  lusty  franklin  of  the  country,  with 
two  tall  young  men,  his  sons.  The  champion  soon  smashed 
up  these  antagonists,  killing  them  both ;  at  which  all 
were  in  a  deep  passion  of  pity  but  the  father  himself,  who 
was  more  pleased  at  their  bravery  than  grieved  at  their 
death.  This  done,  Rosader  alights  from  his  horse,  and 
presents  himself,  cheering  the  stout-hearted  yeoman  with 
the  promise  that  he  will  "either  made  a  third  in  their  trag- 
edy, or  else  revenge  their  fall  with  an  honorable  triumph." 
He  quickly  puts  an  end  to  the  Norman,  though  not  till  his 
eyes  and  thoughts  have  got  thoroughly  entangled  with  the 
beauty  of  Rosalynd.  On  the  other  side  she  is  equally 
touched  by  his  handsome  person  and  heroic  bearing.  After 
the  king  and  lords  had  learned  who  he  was,  and  graced  him 


AS    YOU   LIKE    IT  introduction 

with  their  embracings,  she  "took  from  her  neck  a  jewel 
and  sent  it  to  him  by  a  page,  as  an  assurance  of  her  fa- 
vor." 

Upon  his  brother's  return,  Sakadyne,  greatly  chagrined 
at  the  unlooked-for  issue,  began  forthwith  to  persecute  him 
worse  than  ever,  and  the  war  was  waged  in  any  thing  but  a 
becoming  manner  on  both  sides.  Of  their  long  strife  suf- 
fice it  to  say,  that  the  Poet  has  shown  good  judgment  in 
omitting  it  altogether.  By  this  time  Torismond  grew  jeal- 
ous of  his  niece,  and  thought  to  banish  her,  saying  to  him- 
self,— "Her  face  is  so  full  of  favor,  that  it  pleads  pity 
in  the  eye  of  every  man" ;  for  he  feared  lest  some  one  of 
the  peers  should  aim  at  her  love,  and  then  in  his  wife's 
right  attempt  the  kingdom.  Coming  upon  her  in  this 
mood,  he  charged  her  with  treason,  and  ordered  her  into 
immediate  exile;  whereupon  Alinda  fell  to  entreating  for 
her,  telHng  him  how  "custom  had  wrought  such  an  union 
of  their  nature,  that  they  had  two  bodies  and  one  soul" ; 
and  that  if  he  banished  her  she  would  herself  share  the 
same  sentence.  He  then  turned  his  wrath  upon  her,  telling 
her  she  did  but  "hatch  up  a  bird  to  peck  out  her  own  eyes" : 
but  she,  nothing  amazed,  stood  firm  in  defense  of  her  cou- 
sin, assuring  him  that  if  he  refused  her  prayer  "  she  would 
either  steal  out  and  follow  her,  or  end  her  days  with  some 
desperate  kind  of  death."  Seeing  her  so  resolute,  he  then 
decreed  the  banishment  of  tlicm  both.  After  comforting 
each  other  as  well  as  they  could,  they  went  to  arranging 
for  their  flight.  Alinda  grieving  that  they  were  to  have 
no  male  attendant,  Rosalynd  says  to  her, — "Thou  seest  I 
am  of  a  tall  stature,  and  would  very  well  become  the  per- 
son and  apparel  of  a  page :  I  will  buy  me  a  suit,  and  have 
my  rapier  very  handsomely  at  my  side ;  and  if  any  knave 
offer  wrong,  your  page  will  show  him  the  point  of  his 
weapon."  Thus  they  set  forth,  Alinda  being  called  Aliena, 
and  Rosalynd  Ganimede,  and  at  last  came  to  the  forest 
of  Arden,  where,  after  wandering  about  some  time,  and 
suffering  many  perils  and  privations,  they  found  some 
verses  pinned  upon  a  tree,  and  soon  came  where  they  might 

xxi 


Introduction  AS    YOU   LIKE    IT 

overhear  a  conversation  between  two  shepherds,  Coridon 
and  Montanus,  the  latter  of  whom  had  got  so  smitten  with 
a  shepherdess  named  Phoebe,  that  he  could  talk  of  noth- 
ing else.  Coridon  having  grown  somewhat  old  and  wise 
in  pastoral  science,  his  rhetoric  soon  put  Alinda  in  love 
with  a  shepherd's  life;  and  when  he  told  her  his  landlord 
was  going  to  sell  both  the  farm  he  tilled  and  the  flock  he 
kept,  she  resolved  to  buy  them,  and  have  him  for  overseer. 
This  done,  they  lived  in  quiet,  heeding  their  flock,  and  hear- 
ing INIontanus  warble  the  praises  of  his  cruel  mistress : 
"though  they  had  but  country  fare  and  coarse  lodging,  yet 
their  welcome  was  so  great  and  their  cares  so  little,  that 
they  counted  their  diet  delicate,  and  slept  as  soundly  as  if 
they  had  been  in  the  court  of  Torismond." 

At  length  Rosader,  driven  off*  by  his  brother's  cruelty, 
betook  himself  to  the  same  forest,  accompanied  by  Adam 
Spencer,  an  Englishman,  who  had  been  an  old  and  trusty 
servant  to  Sir  John  of  Bordeaux.  Arriving  there,  Adam 
was  so  forespent  with  hunger  and  travel,  that  he  sunk  down 
in  despair,  and  begged  Rosader  to  look  out  for  himself, 
and  leave  him  alone  to  die.  After  bidding  him  be  of  good 
cheer,  Rosader  started  off"  in  quest  of  food.  Now  "it 
chanced  that  Gerismond,  who  with  a  lusty  crew  of  outlaws 
lived  in  the  forest,  that  day  in  honor  of  his  birth  made  a 
feast  to  all  his  bold  yeomen,  and  frolicked  it  with  store  of 
wine  and  venison,  sitting  all  at  a  long  table  under  the 
shadow  of  lemon-trees."  To  this  place  fortune  brought 
Rosader,  who,  seeing  the  band  of  brave  men  so  well  pro- 
vided, stepped  boldly  up  to  the  table,  and  begged  a  supply 
for  himself  and  his  old  friend  who  were  perishing  with  hun- 
ger, at  the  same  time  saying, — "If  thou  refuse  this,  as  a 
niggard  of  thy  cates,  I  will  have  amongst  you  with  ray 
sword."  Gerismond,  moved  with  pity,  and  rising  from  the 
table,  took  him  by  the  hand,  bade  him  welcome,  and  willed 
him  to  sit  down  in  his  place,  and  eat  as  much  as  he  would. 
But  he  answered,  he  would  not  taste  one  crumb  till  his  suf- 
fering friend  were  first  relieved.  So  away  he  runs  to 
Adani,  and,  finding  him  too  feeble  to  walk,  takes  him  upoq 

xxii 


AS   YOU   LIKE   IT  Introduction 

his  back  and  brings  him  to  the  place.  Gerismond  and  his 
men  greatly  applauded  this  league  of  friendship ;  and  the 
king's  place  being  assigned  to  Rosader,  he  would  not  sit 
there  himself,  but  gave  it  to  Adam.  The  repast  being 
over,  Rosader  at  the  king's  request  gave  an  account  of 
himself,  how  he  was  the  youngest  son  of  Sir  John  of  Bor- 
deaux, how  he  had  been  wronged  by  his  elder  brother,  and 
closed  by  saying, — "And  this  old  man,  whom  I  so  much 
love  and  honor,  is  Adam  Spencer,  an  old  servant  of  my 
father's,  and  one  that  never  failed  me  in  all  my  misfor- 
tunes." Hearing  this  the  king  fell  on  the  neck  of  Rosader, 
and  told  him  he  was  Gerismond,  and  how  he  loved  Sir  John. 
Then  he  asked  about  his  daughter  Rosalynd,  and  Rosader 
told  him  how  Torismond  had  banished  her,  and  how  Alinda 
chose  rather  to  share  her  exile  than  part  fellowship ;  where- 
upon the  unnatural  father  had  banished  her,  too. 

When  Torismond  knew  of  Rosader's  flight,  and  that 
Saladyne  was  now  sole  heir  of  Sir  John's  estates,  he  sought 
a  quarrel  with  him,  so  as  to  come  at  his  revenues.  At  first 
Saladyne  was  thrown  into  prison,  where  he  was  soon 
brought  to  repent  his  injuries  to  Rosader.  Being  sent  for 
by  the  usurper,  and  questioned  about  his  brother,  he  an- 
swered that  he  had  fled,  he  knew  not  whither.  Then  Toris- 
mond said, — "Nay,  villain,  I  have  heard  of  the  wrongs 
thou  hast  done  thy  brother:  I  spare  thy  life  for  thy  fa- 
ther's sake,  but  banish  thee  forever  from  the  court  and 
country  of  France ;  and  see  thy  departure  be  within  ten 
days,  else  thou  shalt  lose  th}^  head."  Meanwhile,  Rosader 
gets  to  feel  quite  at  home  in  his  forest  life,  his  hands  being 
busy  with  woodland  pursuits,  and  his  thoughts  with  the 
image  of  Rosalynd,  in  whose  praise  he  carves  sonnets  in 
the  bark  of  trees,  till  one  day  he  chances  to  meet  her  dis- 
guised as  Ganimede.  After  drawing  out  his  thoughts 
about  herself,  she  engages  him  to  visit  and  talk  with  her  as 
if  she  were  Rosalynd  indeed.  One  day,  as  he  was  in  chase 
of  a  deer,  he  came  where  he  saw  a  man  lying  asleep,  and 
a  lion  crouched  near  by,  waiting  for  him  to  awake.  Com- 
ing nearer,  he  perceived  the  man  to  be  his  brother  Sala- 

xxiii 


Introduction  AS   YOU  LIKE   IT 

dyne.  He  debated  with  himself  awhile  what  he  should  do, 
but  at  last  resolved  to  do  right :  he  killed  the  beast,  but 
got  a  bad  wound  himself.  At  the  noise  Saladyne  awoke, 
and,  not  knowing  who  his  deliverer  was,  went  along  with 
him,  and,  being  asked,  told  the  story  of  his  life,  how  he 
had  wronged  his  brother,  moistening  his  discourse  with 
tears,  till  Rosader,  unable  to  smother  the  sparks  of  nature, 
made  himself  known.  "Much  ado  there  was  between  them, 
Saladyne  in  craving  pardon,  and  Rosader  in  forgiving  all 
former  injuries."  In  this  temper  Saladyne  was  conducted 
to  the  king,  and  of  course  taken  into  the  woodland  society. 
This  business  detained  Rosader  from  his  appointment 
with  Rosalynd,  which  caused  her  a  deal  of  distress;  and 
when  at  last  he  came,  he  had  not  much  more  than  told  the 
story  of  the  late  events,  before  it  appeared  that  his  coming 
was  in  good  time.  For  a  gang  of  ruffians,  who  had  fled 
from  justice  and  were  living  secretly  in  the  forest,  thought 
to  kidnap  Aliena  and  her  page  for  a  present  to  the  usurper, 
to  buy  out  the  law,  knowing  that  he  was  a  lecher,  and  de- 
lighted in  the  spoil  of  virgin  beauty.  Their  onset  found 
Rosader  on  the  spot.  But  he  was  unable  to  stand  against 
so  many,  and,  being  badly  hurt,  was  expecting  to  see  his 
friends  borne  away,  when  Saladyne  came  up,  "having  a 
forest  bill  on  his  neck,"  which  he  handled  with  such  good 
aim  as  wrought  a  speedy  rescue.  Alinda  and  Saladyne 
being  thus  brought  together,  their  acquaintance  soon 
ripened  into  a  mutual  vow.  While  this  was  in  the  forge, 
Coridon  took  his  mistress  and  her  page  where  they  might 
overhear  what  passed  between  Montanus  and  Phoebe. 
Rosalynd  was  much  provoked  at  Phoebe's  behavior,  and, 
their  dialogue  ended,  went  to  chiding  her,  at  the  same  time 
counselling  her  not  to  let  slip  so  fair  a  chance.  Phoebe, 
who  all  the  while  thought  scorn  to  love,  now  gets  as  much 
enthralled  to  Ganimede  as  IMontanus  is  to  herself,  when 
Rosalynd,  seeing  the  effect  of  her  speech,  breaks  off  the 
interview,  and  leaves  her  sighing  and  weeping  with  this 
new  passion.  Then  Phoebe  presently  reduces  her  love  to 
writing,  and  asks  iVIontanus  to  be  her  post  to  Ganimede, 


AS   YOU  LIKE   IT  Introduction 

which  he  readily  undertakes  to  do,  though  knowing  how  it 
makes  against  himself.  For  some  time  things  go  on  thus, 
IVIontanus  wooing  Phoebe,  and  Phoebe  (janimcdc,  till  Phoebe 
is  drawn  into  a  promise,  that  if  she  leave  to  love  Ganimede, 
she  will  fancy  JNIontanus ;  Ganimede  at  the  same  time  en- 
gaging that  if  he  ever  wed  any  woman  it  shall  be  Phoebe. 

]\Ieanwhile,  the  day  being  set  and  the  preparations  begun 
for  the  nuptials  of  Saladyne  and  Alinda,  this  puts  Rosader 
in  great  tribulation,  that  he  cannot  be  married  to  Rosalynd 
at  the  same  time.  He  tells  his  grief  to  Ganimede,  who  re- 
plies,— "Be  of  good  cheer,  man :  I  have  a  friend  that  is 
deeply  experienced  in  necromancy  and  magic :  what  art 
can  do  shall  be  acted  for  thine  advantage:  I  will  cause 
him  to  bring  Rosalynd  if  either  France  or  any  bordering 
nation  harbor  her" ;  at  which  Rosader  frowned,  thinking 
the  page  was  jesting  with  him.  When  all  are  assembled 
for  the  wedding,  Gerismond,  observing  the  page,  calls  to 
mind  the  face  of  his  Rosalynd,  and  sighs  deeply.  Rosader 
asking  him  the  cause,  he  tells  how  the  page  reminds  him  of 
his  daughter.  Rosader  then  professing  his  love  for  her, 
the  king  declares  that  if  she  were  present  he  would  this 
day  make  up  a  marriage  between  them.  Thereupon  Gani- 
mede withdraws  to  put  on  her  woman's  attire,  and,  pres- 
ently returning  as  Rosalynd,  falls  at  her  father's  feet,  and 
craves  his  blessing.  Of  course  it  is  soon  settled  that  she 
and  Rosader  shall  be  married  that  day.  Phoebe  being  now 
asked  if  she  will  be  willing  to  give  up  the  page,  she  replies 
that  if  they  please  she  and  Montanus  will  that  day  make 
the  third  couple  in  marriage.  Hitherto  Alinda  has  kept 
her  disguise,  and  Saladyne  sought  her  hand,  thinking  her 
to  be  what  she  seemed:  now,  seeing  him  look  rather  sor- 
rowful, and  supposing  it  to  grow  from  the  apparent  dis- 
advantage of  his  match,  she  makes  herself  known.  By  this 
time  word  is  brought  that  the  priest  is  at  Church,  and 
tarries  their  coming.  The  wedding  well  over,  while  they 
are  at  dinner  Fernandine  arrives,  and  informs  them  that 
the  twelve  peers  of  France  are  at  hand  with  an  army  to  re- 
store Gerismond  to  the  throne.     The  victory  declaring  for 

XXV 


Introduction  AS    YOU    1.1  KE   IT 

them,  and   the   usurper  being   slain,   all   wrongs   are  soon 
righted,  and  the  exiles  return  together  to  Paris. 

From  this  sketch,  which  has  been  made  with  care,  it 
will  be  seen  that  the  Poet  has  here  borrowed  much  excel- 
lent matter:  perhaps  it  will  also  be  seen  that  he  has  used 
with  exquisite  judgment  whatsoever  he  took.  Excepting, 
indeed,  Tlu  Winter's  Tale,  there  is  none  of  his  plays 
wherein  he  has  drawn  so  freely  from  others ;  nor,  we  may 
add,  is  there  any  wherein  he  has  enriched  his  drawings  more 
liberally  from  the  glory  of  his  own  genius.  To  appreciate 
his  judgment  as  shown  in  what  he  left,  one  must  read  the 
whole  of  Lodge's  novel.  In  our  sketch  will  be  found  no 
traces  of  Jaques,  or  Touchstone,  or  Audrey :  in  truth,  there 
is  nothing  in  the  novel,  that  could  yield  to  the  slightest  hint 
towards  either  of  those  characters.  It  need  scarce  be  said 
that  these  superaddings  are  of  themselves  enough  to  trans- 
form the  whole  into  another  nature,  pouring  through  all  its 
veins  a  free  and  lively  circulation  of  the  most  original  wit, 
and  humor,  and  poetry.  And  by  a  judicious  indefiniteness 
as  to  persons  and  places,  the  Poet  has  greatly  idealized  the 
work,  throwing  it  at  a  romantic  distance,  and  weaving 
about  it  all  the  witchery  of  poetical  perspective ;  and  the 
whole  falls  in  so  smoothly  with  the  laws  of  the  imagination, 
that  the  breaches  of  geographical  order  are  never  noticed, 
save  by  such  as  cannot  understand  poetry  without  a  map. 
No  one  at  all  qualified  to  judge  in  the  matter  will  sup- 
pose that  Shakespeare  could  have  been  really  indebted  to 
Lodge,  or  whomsoever  else,  for  any  of  the  characters  in 
As  You  Like  It.  He  did  but  borrow  certain  names  and 
foi-ms  for  the  bodying  forth  of  conceptions  purely  his  own. 
The  resemblance  is  all  in  the  drapery  and  circumstances  of 
the  repi'esentation,  not  in  the  individuals.  For  instance, 
we  can  easily  imagine  Rosalind  in  an  hundred  scenes  not 
here  represented,  for  she  is  a  substantive  personal  being, 
such  as  we  may  detach  and  consider  apart  from  the  par- 
ticular order  wherein  she  stands ;  but  we  can  discover  in 
her  no  likeness  to  Lodge's  Rosalynd,  save  that  of  name  and 
situation :  take  away  the  similarity  here,  and  there  is  noth- 

XX  vi 


AS   YOU   LIKE    IT  Introduction 

ing  to  indicate  that  he  wlio  drew  the  heroine  of  the  play 
had  ever  seen  the  heroine  of  the  noveh  And  it  is  consid- 
erable, that  thovigii  he  has  here  borrowed  more  than  al- 
most any  where  else,  there  is  no  sign  of  any  borrowing  in 
the  work  itself:  we  can  detect  no  foreign  influences,  no 
second-hand  touches,  nothing  to  suggest  that  any  part  of 
the  thing  had  ever  been  thought  of  before ;  what  he  took 
being  so  thoroughly  assimilated  into  what  he  gave,  that 
the  whole  seems  to  have  come  fresh  from  nature  and  his// 
own  nn'nd:  so  that,  had  the  originals  been  lost,  w^e  should! 
never  have  suspected  there  were  any. 

This  play  is  exceedingly  rich  and  varied  in  character. 
The  several  persons  standing  out  round  and  clear,  yet  their 
distinctive  traits  in  a  remarkable  degree  sink  quietly  into 
the  feelings,  without  reporting  themselves  in  the  under- 
standing; for  which  cause  the  clumsy  methods  of  criticism 
can  scarce  reduce  them  to  expression.  Properly  speaking, 
the  drama  has  no  hero ;  for,  though  Orlando  occupies  the 
foreground,  the  characters  are  strictly  coordinate,  the  very 
design  of  the  work  precluding  any  subordination  among 
them.  Diverted  by  fortune  from  all  their  cherished  plans 
and  purposes,  they  pass  before  us  in  just  that  moral  and 
intellectual  dishabille,  which  best  reveals  their  indwelling 
graces  of  heart  and  mind.  Schlegel,  indeed,  remarks  thar 
"throughout  the  picture  the  Poet  seems  to  have  aimed  at 
showing  that  nothing  is  wanting  to  call  forth  the  poetry 
which  has  its  dwelling  in  nature  and  the  human  mind,  but 
to  throw  off  all  artifici^il  restraint,  and  restore  both  to  their 
native  liberty."  But  it  should  be  further  observed,  that 
the  persons  have  already  been  "purified  by  suffering,"  and 
that  it  was  under  the  discipline  of  social  restraint  that  they 
developed  the  virtues  that  make  them  go  right  without  it. 
Because  they  have  not  hitherto  been  free  to  do  as  they 
would,  therefore  it  is  that  they  are  good  and  beautiful  in  / 
doing  as  they  have  a  mind  to  now. 

Orlando  is  altogether  such  a  piece  of  3'oung  manhood  as 
it  does  one  good  to  be  with.  He  has  no  special  occasion 
for  heroism,  \v\  \\c  feel  that  there  is  plenty  of  heroic  stuff 

xxvii 


Introduction  AS    YOU   LIKE    IT 

in  him.  Brave,  gentle,  modest,  and  magnanimous ;  never 
thinking  of  his  high  birth  but  to  avoid  dishonoring  it;  in 
his  noble-heartedness  forgetting  and  making  others  for- 
get his  nobility  of  rank; — he  is  every  way  just  such  a  man 
as  all  true  men  would  choose  for  their  best  friend.  The 
whole  intercourse  between  him  and  his  faithful  old  servant, 
Adam,  is  on  both  sides  replete  with  the  very  divinity  of  the 
old  chivalrous  sentiment,  in  whose  eye  the  nobilities  of  na- 
ture were  always  sure  of  recognition. 

The  exiled  Duke  exemplifies  the  best  sense  of  nature,  as 
thoroughly  informed  and  built  up  with  Christian  discipline 
and  religious  efficacy,  so  that  the  asperities  of  life  do  but 
make  his  thoughts  run  the  smoother.  How  sweet,  yet  how 
considerative  and  firm,  is  every  thing  about  his  temper  and 
moral  frame !  he  sees  all  that  is  seen  by  the  most  keen-eyed 
satirist,  yet  is  never  moved  to  be  satirical,  because  he  looks 
with  wiser  and  therefore  kindlier  eye.  Hence  comes  it  that 
he  "can  translate  the  stubbornness  of  fortune  into  so  quiet 
and  so  sweet  a  style."  In  his  philosophy,  so  bland,  be- 
nignant, and  contemplative,  the  mind  tastes  the  very  luxury 
of  rest,  and  has  an  antepast  of  measureless  content. 

Touchstone,  though  he  nowhere  strikes  so  deep  a  chord 
within  us  as  the  poor  fool  in  Lear,  is  the  most  entertain- 
ing of  Shakespeare's  privileged  characters.  Richly  in- 
deed does  his  grave  logical  nonsense  moralize  the  scenes 
wherein  he  moves.  It  is  curious  to  observe  how  the  Poet 
takes  care  to  let  us  know  from  the  first,  that  beneath  the 
affectations  of  his  calling  some  precious  sentiments  have 
been  kept  alive ;  that  far  within  the  fool  there  is  laid  up  a 
secret  reserve  of  the  man,  ready  to  leap  forth  and  combine 
with  better  influences  as  soon  as  the  incrustations  of  art  are 
thawed  and  broken  up.  Used  to  a  life  cut  off  from  human 
sympathies ;  stripped  of  the  common  responsibilities  of  the 
social  state;  living  for  no  end  but  to  make  aristocratic 
idlers  laugh ;  one,  therefore,  whom  nobody  respects  enough 
to  resent  or  be  angry  at  any  thing  he  says ; — of  course  his 
habit  is  to  speak  all  for  effect,  nothing  for  truth :  instead 
of  yielding  or  being  passive  to  the  natural  force  and  vir- 

xxviii 


AS   YOU  LIKE   IT  Introduction 

tue  of  things,  his  vocation  is  to  wrest  and  transshape  them 
out  of  their  true  scope.  Thus  a  strange  willfulness  and 
whimsicality  has  wrought  itself  into  the  substance  of  his 
mind.  *Yet  his  nature  is  not  so  "subdued  to  what  it  works 
in,"  but  that,  amidst  the  scenes  and  inspirations  of  the 
forest,  the  fool  quickly  slides  into  the  man ;  the  super- 
venings  of  the  place  so  running  into  and  athwart  what  he 
brings  with  him,  that  his  character  comes  to  be  as  dappled 
and  motley  as  his  dress.  Even  in  the  new  passion  which 
here  takes  him  there  is  a  touch  of  his  old  willfulness :  when 
he  falls  in  love,  as  he  really  does,  nothing  seems  to  inspire 
and  draw  him  more  than  the  unloveliness  of  the  object; 
thus  approving  that  even  so  much  of  nature  as  survives  in 
him  is  not  content  to  run  in  natural  channels. 

Jaques,  we  believe,  is  an  universal  favorite,  as  indeed  he 
well  may  be,  for  he  is  certainly  one  of  the  Poet's  happiest 
conceptions.  Without  being  at  all  unnatural,  he  has  an 
amazing  stock  of  peculiarity.  Enraptured  out  of  his 
senses  at  the  voice  of  a  song;  thrown  into  a  paroxysm  of 
laughter  at  sight  of  the  motley-clad  and  motley-witted 
fool ;  taking  no  interest  in  things  but  for  the  melancholy 
thoughts  they  start  up  in  his  mind;  and  shedding  the  twi- 
light of  his  merry-sad  spirit  over  all  the  darker  spots  of 
human  life  and  character; — he  represents  the  abstract  and 
sum  total  of  an  utterly  useless  yet  perfectly  harmless  man, ' 
seeking  wisdom  by  adjuring  its  first  principle.  An  odd 
rich  mixture  of  reality  and  affectation,  he  does  nothing 
but  think,  yet  avowedly  thinks  to  no  purpose ;  or  rather 
thinking  is  with  him  its  own  end.  On  the  whole,  if  in 
Touchstone  there  be  much  of  the  philosopher  in  the  fool, 
in  Jaques  there  is  not  less  of  the  fool  in  the  philosopher ; 
so  that  Ulrici  is  not  so  wide  of  the  mark  in  calling  them 
"two  fools."  He  is  equally  willful,  too,  in  his  turn  of 
thought  and  speech,  though  not  so  conscious  of  it ;  and  as 
he  plays  his  part  more  to  please  himself,  so  he  is  propor- 
tionably  less  open  to  the  healing  and  renovating  influences 
of  nature.  The  society  of  good  men,  provided  they  be  in 
adversity,  has  great  charms  for  him,  because  such  moral 


Introduction  AS    YOU   LIKE   IT 

discrepancies  offer  the  most  salient  points  to  his  cherished 
meditations.  Still  even  his  melancholy  is  grateful,  because 
free  from  any  dash  of  malignity.  His  morbid  pruriency 
of  mind  seems  to  spring  from  an  excess  of  generative  vir- 
tue. And  how  racy  and  original  Is  every  thing  that  comes 
from  him !  as  if  it  bubbled  up  from  the  center  of  his  being ; 
while  his  perennial  fullness  of  matter  makes  his  company 
always  delightful. 

It  Is  not  quite  certain  whether  Jaques  or  Rosalind  be  the 
greater  attraction :  there  Is  enough  In  either  to  make  the 
play  a  continual  feast ;  though  her  charms  are  less  liable  to 
be  staled  by  custom,  because  they  result  from  health  of 
mind  and  symmetry  of  character ;  so  that  In  her  presence 
the  head  and  heart  draw  entirely  together,  and  therefore 
move  so  smoothly  as  to  render  us  happy  without  letting  us 
know  why.  For  wit  this  strange,  queer,  lovely  being  Is 
fully  equal,  perhaps  superior,  to  Beatrice,  yet  nowise  re- 
sembling her.  A  soft,  subtle,  nimble  essence,  consisting 
In  one  knows  not  what,  and  springing  up  one  can  hardly 
tell  how,  her  wit  neither  stings  nor  burns,  but  plays  briskly 
and  airily  over  all  things  within  Its  reach,  enriching  and 
adorning  them,  insomuch  that  one  could  ask  no  greater 
pleasure  than  to  be  the  continual  theme  of  it.  In  Its  Irre- 
pressible vivacity  it  waits  not  for  occasion,  but  runs  on  for- 
ever, and  we  wish  It  to  run  on  forever:  we  have  a  sort 
of  faith  that  her  dreams  are  made  up  of  cunning,  quirklsh, 
graceful  fancies.  And  her  heart  seems  a  perennial  foun- 
tain of  affectionate  cheerfulness:  no  trial  can  break,  no 
sorrow  chill  her  flow  of  spirits ;  even  her  deepest  sighs  are 
breathed  forth  In  a  wrappage  of  Innocent  mirth ;  an  arch, 
roguish  smile  irradiates  her  saddest  tears.  Yet  beneath  all 
her  playfulness  we  feel  that  there  is  a  firm  basis  of_thought 
and  womanly  dignity,  so  that  she  never  lai  ghs  away  our 
respect.  It  is  quite  remarkable  how.  In  respect  of  her  dis- 
guise, Rosalind  reverses  the  conduct  of  Viola,  yet  with 
much  the  same  effect.  For  though  she  seems  as  much  at 
home  In  her  male  attire  as  If  she  had  always  worn  it,  this 
never  strikes  us  otherwise  thfin  as  an  exercise  of  skill  for 

XXX 


AS   YOU   LIKE   IT  Introduction 

the  better  concealing  of  what  she  is.  And  on  the  same 
principle  her  occasional  freedoms  of  speech  serve  but  to 
deepen  our  sense  of  her  innate  delicacy ;  they  being  mani- 
festly intended  as  a  part  of  her  disguise,  and  springing 
from  the  feeling  that  it  is  far  less  indelicate  to  go  a  little 
out  of  her  character,  than  to  keep  strictly  within  it  at  the 
risk  of  causing  a  suspicion  of  her  sex. — Celia  appears  well 
worthy  of  a  place  beside  her  whose  love  she  shares  and  re- 
pays. Instinct  with  the  soul  of  moral  beauty  and  of  fe- 
male tenderness,  the  friendship  of  these  more  than  sisters 
"mounts  to  the  seat  of  grace  within  the  mind." 

The  general  scope  and  drift,  or,  as  Ulrici  would  say,  the 
ground-idea,  of  this  play  is  aptly  hinted  by  the  title.  As 
for  the  beginnings  of  what  is  here  represented,  they  do  not 
greatly  concern  us,  for  most  of  them  lie  back  out  of  our 
view,  and  the  rest  are  soon  lost  sight  of  in  what  grows  out 
of  them ;  but  the  issues,  of  which  there  are  many,  are  all 
exactly  to  our  mind;  we  feel  them  to  be  just  about  right, 
and  would  not  have  them  otherwise.  For  example,  touch- 
ing Oliver  and  Frederick,  our  wish  is,  that  they  should  re- 
pent, and  repair  the  wrong  they  have  done ;  in  a  word,  that 
they  should  become  good,  which  is  precisely  what  takes 
place ;  and  as  soon  as  they  do  this,  they  of  course  love  those 
that  were  good  before.  Jaques,  too,  is  so  fitted  to  moralize 
the  discrepancies  of  human  life,  so  happy  and  at  home, 
and  withal  so  agreeable  while  doing  it,  that  we  would  not 
he  should  follow  the  good  Duke  when  in  his  case  those 
discrepancies  are  composed :  we  feel  that  the  best  thing  he 
can  do  is  to  leave  him,  and  take  to  one  who,  growing  bet- 
ter, and  so  resigning  his  ill-gotten  wealth,  resolves  to  do 
right,  though  it  bring  him  to  penury  and  rags.  The  same 
might  easily  be  shown  in  regard  to  the  other  issues :  in- 
deed, we  dare  ask  any  genial,  considerate  reader, — Does 
not  every  thing  turn  out  just  as  you  like  it?  Moreover, 
there  is  an  indefinable  something  about  the  play,  that  puts 
us  in  a  passive  and  receptive  temper  and  frame  of  mind ;  i 
that  opens  the  heart,  smiles  away  all  querulousness  and  \ 
fault-finding,  and  makes  us  easy  and  apt  to  be  pleased. 

xxxi 


Introduction  AS    YOU   LIKE   IT 

Thus  the  Poet  disposes  us  to  like  things  as  they  come,  and 
at  the  same  time  takes  care  that  they  shall  come  as  we  like. 

Much  has  been  said  by  one  critic  and  another  about  the 
improbabilities  in  this  play.  We  confess  they  have  never 
troubled  us ;  and  as  we  have  had  no  trouble  here  to  get  out 
of,  we  do  not  well  know  how  to  help  others  out.  Where- 
fore, if  an}^  one  be  still  annoyed  by  these  things,  we  will 
turn  him  over  to  the  poet  Campbell,  wishing  him  nothing 
worse  or  better  than  that  he  may  find  that  author's  charm- 
ing criticism  just  as  he  likes  if.  "Before  I  say  more  of 
this  dramatic  treasure,  I  must  absolve  myself  by  a  con- 
fession as  to  some  of  its  improbabilities.  Rosalind  asks 
her  cousin  Ceha, — 'Whither  shall  we  go?'  and  Celia  an- 
swers,— 'To  seek  my  uncle  in  the  forest  of  Arden.'  But, 
arrived  there,  and  having  purchased  a  cottage  and  sheep- 
farm,  neither  the  daughter  nor  niece  of  the  banished  Duke 
seem  to  trouble  themselves  much  to  inquire  about  either 
father  or  uncle.  The  lively  and  natural-hearted  Rosalind 
discovers  no  impatience  to  embrace  her  sire,  until  she  has 
finished  her  masked  courtship  with  Orlando.  But  Rosa- 
lind was  in  love,  as  I  have  been  with  the  comedy  these 
forty  years ;  and  love  is  blind, — for  until  a  late  period  my 
ej^es  were  never  couched  so  as  to  see  this  objection.  The 
truth,  however,  is,  that  love  is  wilfully  blind ;  and  now  that 
my  eyes  are  opened,  I  shut  them  against  the  fault.  Away 
with  your  best-proved  improbabilities,  when  the  heart  has 
been  touched,  and  the  fancy  fascinated ! 

"  In  fact,  though  there  is  no  rule  without  exceptions, 
and  no  general  truth  without  limitation,  it  may  be  pro- 
nounced, that  if  you  delight  us  in  fiction,  you  may  make 
our  sense  of  probability  slumber  as  deeply  as  you  please. 
But  it  may  be  asked,  whether  nature  and  truth  are  to  be 
sacrificed  at  the  altar  of  fiction.''  No!  in  the  main  effect 
of  fiction  on  the  fancy,  they  never  are  or  can  be  sacrificed. 
The  improbabilities  of  fiction  are  only  its  exceptions,  while 
the  truth  of  nature  is  its  general  law ;  and  unless  the  truth 
of  nature  were  in  the  main  observed,  the  fictionist  could  not 


AS   YOU   LIKE   IT  Introduction 

lull  our  vigilance  as  to  particular  improbabilities.  Apply 
this  maxim  to  As  You  Like  It,  and  our  Poet  will  be  found 
to  make  us  forget  what  is  eccentric  from  nature  in  a  limited 
view,  by  showing  it  more  beautifully  probable  in  a  larger 
contemplation." 

Finally,  we  have  to  confess  that,  upon  the  whole,  As 
You  Like  It  is  o^f  favorite  of  Shakespeare's  comedies. 
Yet  y^  should  be  puzzled  to  tell  why ;  for  oyx"  preference 
springs,  not  so  much  from  any  particular  points  or  fea- 
tures, wherein  it  is  surpassed  by  several  others,  as  from  the 
general  toning  and  effect.  The  whole  is  replete  with  a 
beauty  so  delicate,  yet  so  intense,  that  we  feel  it  every 
where,  but  can  never  tell  especially  where  it  is  or  in  what 
it  consists.  For  instance,  the  descriptions  of  forest  scen- 
ery come  along  so  unsought,  and  in  such  easy,  natural 
touches,  that  we  take  in  the  impression,  without  once  notic- 
ing what  it  is  that  impresses  us.  Thus  there  is  a  certain 
woodland  freshness,  a  glad,  free  naturalness,  that  creeps 
and  steals  into  the  heart  before  we  know  it.  We  are  per- 
suaded, indeed,  that  Milton  had  this  play  especially  in  his 
mind  when  he  wrote, — 

"And  sweetest  Shakespeare,  fancy's  child, 
Warbles  his  native  wood-notes  wild." 

Add  to  this,  that  the  kindlier  sentiments  here  seem  playing 
out  in  a  sort  of  jubilee.  Untied  from  set  purposes  and 
definite  aims,  the  persons  come  forth  with  their  hearts  al- 
ready tuned,  and  so  have  nothing  to  do  but  let  off  their 
redundant  music.  Envy,  jealousy,  avarice,  revenge,  all 
the  passions  that  afflict  and  degrade  society,  they  have  left 
in  the  city  behind  them.  And  they  have  brought  the  in- 
telligence and  refinement  of  the  court,  without  its  vanities 
and  vexations ;  so  that  the  graces  of  art  and  the  simplicities 
of  nature  meet  together  in  joyous  loving  sisterhood. 
Thus  it  answers  to  Ulrici's  fine  description:  "The  whole 
is  a  deep  pervading  harmony,  while  sweet  and  soul-touch- 
ing melodies  play  around;  all  is  so  ethereal,  so  tender  and 


Introduction  AS    YOU   LIKE   IT 

affecting,  so  free,  fresh,  and  jojous,  and  so  replete  with  a 
genial  sprightliness,  that  I  have  no  hesitation  in  pro- 
nouncing it  one  of  the  most  excellent  compositions  in  the 
whole  wide  domain  of  poesy." 


COMMENTS 

By   Shakespearean   Scholars 

THE  atmosph?:re  of  the  play 

Shakspere,  when  lie  wrote  this  idylhc  play,  was  himself 
in  his  Forest  of  Arden.  He  had  ended  one  great  ambi- 
tion— the  historical  plays — and  not  yet  commenced  his 
tragedies.  It  was  a  resting-place.  He  sends  his  imagina- 
tion into  the  woods  to  find  repose.  Instead  of  the  courts 
and  camps  of  England,  and  the  embattled  plains  of  France, 
here  was  this  woodland  scene,  where  the  palm-tree,  the 
lioness,  and  the  serpent  are  to  be  found;  possessed  of  a 
flora  and  fauna  that  flourish  in  spite  of  physical  geog- 
raphers. There  is  an  open-air  feeling  throughout  the 
play.  The  dialogue,  as  has  been  observed,  catches  freedom 
and  freshness  from  the  atmosphere.  "Never  is  the  scene 
within-doors,  except  when  something  discordant  is  intro- 
duced to  heighten  as  it  were  the  harmony."  ^  After  the 
trumpet-tones  of  Henry  V  comes  the  sweet  pastoral  strain, 
so  bright,  so  tender.  Must  it  not  be  all  in  keeping.'' 
Shakspere  was  not  trying  to  control  his  melancholy. 
When  he  needed  to  do  that,  Shakspere  confronted  his  mel- 
ancholy very  passionately,  and  looked  it  full  in  the  face. 
Here  he  needed  refreshment,  a  sunlight  tempered  by  forest- 
boughs,  a  breeze  upon  his  forehead,  a  stream  murmuring  in 
his  ears. — Dowden,  Shakspere — His  Mind  and  Art. 

ROSALIND 

Though  Rosalind  is  a  princess,  she  is  a  princess  of  Ar- 
cady ;  and  notwithstanding  the  charming  effect  produced 

1  C.  A.  Brown.     Shakespeare's  Atttobiographical  Poems. 
XXXV 


Comments  AS   YOU   LIKE   IT 

by  her  first  scenes,  we  scarcely  ever  think  of  her  with  a 
reference  to  them,  or  associate  her  with  a  court,  and  the 
artificial  appendages  of  her  rank.  She  was  not  made  to 
"lord  it  o'er  a  fair  mansion,"  and  take  state  upon  her  like 
the  all-accomplished  Portia;  but  to  breathe  the  free  air  of 
heaven,  and  frolic  among  green  leaves.  She  was  not  made 
to  stand  the  siege  of  daring  profligacy,  and  oppose  high 
action  and  high  passion  to  the  assaults  of  adverse  fortune, 
like  Isabel ;  but  to  "fleet  the  time  carelessly  as  they  did  i' 
the  golden  age."  She  was  not  made  to  bandy  wit  with 
lords,  and  tread  courtly  measures  with  plumed  and  warlike 
cavaliers,  like  Beatrice ;  but  to  dance  on  the  green  sward, 
and  "murmur  among  living  brooks  a  music  sweeter  than 
their  own." — Jameson,  Shakespeare's  Heroines. 

We  are  introduced  to  Rosalind  as  a  poor  bird  with  a 
drooping  wing ;  her  father  is  banished,  she  is  bereft  of  her 
birthright,  and  is  living  on  suff^erance  as  companion  to 
the  usurper's  daughter,  being,  indeed,  half  a  prisoner  in 
the  palace,  where  till  lately  she  reigned  as  princess.  It  is 
not  until  she  has  donned  the  doublet  and  hose,  appears  in 
the  likeness  of  a  page,  and  wanders  at  her  own  sweet  will  in 
the  open  air  and  the  greenwood,  that  she  recovers  her  radi- 
ant humor,  and  roguish  merriment  flows  from  her  lips  like 
the  trilling  of  a  bird. 

Nor  is  the  man  she  loves  an  overweening  gallant  with 
a  sharp  tongue  and  an  unabashed  bearing.  This  youth, 
though  brave  as  a  hero  and  strong  as  an  athlete,  is  a  child 
in  inexperience,  and  so  bashful  in  the  presence  of  the 
woman  who  instantly  captivates  him,  that  it  is  she  who  is 
the  first  to  betray  her  sympathy  for  him,  and  has  even  to 
take  the  chain  from  her  own  neck  and  hang  it  around  his 
before  he  can  so  much  as  muster  up  courage  to  hope  for 
her  love.  So,  too,  we  find  him  passing  his  time  in  hanging 
poems  to  her  upon  the  trees,  and  carving  the  name  of 
Rosalind  in  their  bark.  She  amuses  herself,  in  her  page's 
attire,  by  making  herself  his  confidant,  and  pretending,  as 
it  were  in  jest,  to  be  his  Rosalind.      She  cannot  bring  her- 

xxxvi 


AS   YOU  LIKE    IT  Comments 

self  to  confess  her  passion,  although  she  can  think  and  talk 
(to  Celia)  of  no  one  but  him,  and  although  his  delay  of  a 
few  minutes  in  keeping  tryst  with  her  sets  her  beside  her- 
self with  impatience.  She  is  as  sensitive  as  she  is  intelli- 
gent, in  this  differing  from  Portia,  to  whom,  in  other  re- 
spects, she  bears  some  resemblance,  though  she  lacks  her 
persuasive  eloquence,  and  is,  on  the  whole,  more  tender, 
more  virginal.  She  faints  when  Oliver,  to  excuse  Orlando's 
delay,  brings  her  a  handkerchief  stained  with  his  blood; 
yet  has  sufficient  self-mastery  to  say  with  a  smile  the  mo- 
ment she  recovers,  "I  pray  you  tell  your  brother  how  well 
I  counterfeited."  She  is  quite  at  her  ease  in  her  male  at- 
tire, like  Viola  and  Imogen  after  her.  She  is  unrivalled 
in  vivacity  and  inventiveness.  In  every  answer  she  dis- 
covers gunpowder  anew,  and  she  knows  how  to  use  it  to 
boot. 

What  Rosalind  says  of  women  in  general  applies  to  her- 
self in  particular:  you  will  never  find  her  without  an  an- 
swer until  3'ou  find  her  without  a  tongue.  And  there  is 
always  a  bright  and  merry  fantasy  in  her  answers.  She  is 
literally  radiant  with  youth,  imagination,  and  the  joy  of 
loving  so  passionately  and  being  so  passionately  beloved. 
And  it  is  marvellous  how  thoroughly  feminine  is  her  wit. 
Too  many  of  the  witty  women  in  books  written  by  men 
have  a  man's  intelligence.  Rosalind's  wit  is  tempered  by 
feeling. — Brandes. 

Rosalind's  character  is  made  up  of  sportive  gaiety  and 
natural  tenderness:  her  tongue  runs  the  faster  to  conceal 
the  pressure  at  her  heart.  She  talks  herself  out  of  breath, 
only  to  get  deeper  in  love.  The  coquetry  with  which  she 
plays  with  her  lover  in  the  double  character  which  she  has 
to  support  is  managed  with  the  nicest  address.  How  full 
of  voluble,  laughing  grace  is  all  her  conversation  with 
Orlando — 

— "In  heedless  mazes  running 
"With  wanton  haste  and  giddy  cunning." 

;xxxvii 


Comments  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

How  full  of  real  fondness  and  pretended  cruelty  is  her 
answer  to  him  when  he  promises  to  love  her  "For  ever  and 
a  day !" 

"Say  a  day  without  the  ever:  no,  no,  Orlando,  men  are  April 
when  they  woo,  December  when  they  wed:  maids  are  May  when  they 
are  maids,  but  the  sky  changes  when  they  are  wives:  I  will  be  more 
jealous  of  thee  than  a  Barbary  cock-pigeon  over  his  hen;  more 
clamorous  tiwin  a  parrot  against  rain;  more  new-fangled  than  an 
ape;  more  giddy  in  my  desires  than  a  monkey;  I  will  weep  for 
nothing  like  Diana  in  the  fountain,  and  I  will  do  that  when  you  are 
disposed  to  be  merry;  I  will  laugh  like  a  hyen,  and  that  when  you 
are  inclined  to  sleep. 

Orlando.  But  will  my  Rosalind  do  so? 

Rosalind,  By  my  life  she  will  do  as  I  do." 

— Hazlitt,  Characters  of  Shakespear's  Plays. 

CELIA 

Celia  is  more  quiet  and  retired:  but  she  rather  yields  to 
Rosalind,  than  is  eclipsed  by  her.  She  is  as  full  of  sweet- 
ness, kindness  and  intelligence,  quite  as  susceptible,  and  al- 
most as  witty,  though  she  makes  less  display  of  wit.  She 
is  described  as  less  fair  and  less  gifted ;  yet  the  attempt  to 
excite  in  her  mind  a  jealousy  of  her  lovelier  friend,  by  plac- 
ing them  in  comparison — 

Thou  art  a  fool;  she  robs  thee  of  thy  name; 

A^id  thou  wilt  show  more  bright,  and  seem  more  virtuous, 

When  she  is  gone — 

fails  to  awaken  in  the  generous  heart  of  Celia  any  other 
feeling  than  an  increased  tenderness  and  sympathy  for  her 
cousin.  To  Celia,  Shakspcare  has  given  some  of  the  most 
striking  and  animated  parts  of  the  dialogue;  and  in  par- 
ticular, that  exquisite  description  of  the  friendship  between 
her  and  Rosalind — 

If  she  be  a  traitor, 
Why,  so  am  I;  we  have  still  slept  together, 
Rose  at  an  instant,  learned,  played,  ate  together. 
And  wheresoe'er  we  went,  like  Juno's  swans. 
Still  we  went  coupled  and  inseparable. 
xxxviii 


AS   YOU   LIKE   IT  Comments 

The  feeling  of  interest  and  admiration  thus  excited  for 
Celia  at  the  first,  follows  her  through  the  whole  play.  We 
listen  to  her  as  to  one  who  has  made  herself  worthy  of  our 
love;  and  her  silence  expresses  more  than  eloquence. — 
Jameson,  Shakespeare's  Heroines. 

DUKE  FREDERICK 

That  Duke  Frederick  is  not  constitutionally  cruel,  is  in- 
dicated in  his  endeavor  to  stay  the  wrestling,  "in  pity  of 
the  challenger's  youth,"  first  by  personal  dissuasion  of 
Orlando,  then  by  suggesting  to  the  princesses  to  use  their 
influence,  while  he  stands  considerately  aside,  and  then  by 
restricting  the  encounter  to  one  fall ;  and  thus,  tyrant  as 
he  is,  he  is  in  sympathy  with  the  assembled  crowd,  who 
so  deeply  compassionate  the  bereaved  father.  Again,  he 
is  better  than  his  class  in  his  care  of  the  grasping  and  dis- 
abled prizer- — "How  dost  thou,  Charles?"  and  "bear  him 
away."  Ambition  and  avarice  control  his  better  nature, 
which  regains  its  elasticity,  however,  when  he  is  brought 
under  the  genial  influences  of  a  clearer  air  and  an  altered 
scene.  Certain  it  is  that  such  a  change  has  a  healthy 
moral,  as  well  as  physical  influence ;  it  is  one  of  the  rescu- 
ing energies  of  nature,  and  if  in  actual  nature  it  has  not 
always  the  permanent  vigor  that  is  desirable,  and  loses  its 
force  when  we  return  again  into  the  circle  of  old  local  in- 
fluences and  associations,  the  more  delightful  is  it  for  a 
time  to  revel  in  a  fiction  which  exhibits  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  resources  of  nature,  operating  with  a  vitality  that 
brings  aid  to  faltering  virtue  and  corrects  the  flaws  of 
fortune,  and  turns  the  odds  of  the  great  combat  of  life  to 
the  side  of  the  excellent  and  the  admirable. — Lloyd,  Crit- 
ical Essays. 

DUKE  FREDERICK  AND  OLIVER 

Duke  Frederick  is  called  even  by  his  daughter  a  man  of 
harsh  and  envious  mind ;  he  appears  to  be  perpetually  actu- 

xxxix 


Comments  AS   YOU   LIKE   IT 

ated  by  gloomy  fancies,  by  suspicion  and  mistrust,  and  to 
be  urged  on  by  covetousness.  He  has  banished  his  brother 
and  usurped  the  throne,  he  has  robbed  all  the  lords  of  their 
property  who  have  gone  with  his  brother,  he  has  regarded 
with  hostile  suspicion  all  honorable  men,  the  old  Rowland 
de  Bois  as  well  as  his  brave  Orlando,  and  he  has  surrounded 
himself  with  the  dishonorable,  who  nevertheless,  like  Le 
Beau,  are  not  devoted  to  him.  Orlando's  victory  over  the 
wrestler  is  enough  to  kindle  his  suspicion  against  him ;  once 
awakened,  it  lights  upon  the  hitherto  spared  Rosalind,  for 
no  other  reason  than  that  she  throws  his  daughter  into  the 
shade,  and  thus  excites  the  father's  envy,  a  passion  which 
he  wishes  the  inoffensive  Celia  to  share  also.  When  both 
the  friends  upon  this  disappear  at  the  same  time  with 
Orlando,  Frederick's  suspicion  and  covetousness  fall  upon 
Oliver,  whom  he  had  hitherto  favored.  In  this  eldest  son 
of  the  brave  Rowland  de  Bois  there  flows  the  same  vein  of 
avarice  and  envy  as  in  the  Duke.  He  strives  to  plunder 
his  brother  of  his  poor  inheritance,  he  undermines  his  edu- 
cation and  gentility,  he  first  endeavors  to  stifle  his  mind, 
and  then  he  lays  snares  for  his  life ;  all  this  he  does  from 
an  undefined  hatred  of  the  youth,  whom  he  is  obliged  to 
confess  is  "full  of  noble  device,"  but  who  for  this  very 
reason  draws  away  the  love  of  all  his  people  from  Oliver 
to  himself;  and  on  this  account  excites  his  envious  jeal- 
ousy. Both  the  Duke  and  Oliver  equally  forfeit  the  happi- 
ness which  they  seek,  the  one  the  heritage  of  his  usurped 
dukedom,  the  other  his  lawful  and  unlawful  possessions. 
And  in  this  lies  the  primary  impulse  and  the  material  mo- 
tive for  their  subsequent  renunciation  of  the  world ;  a  more 
moral  incentive  to  this  change  of  mind  is  given  to  Oliver 
in  the  preservation  of  his  life  by  Orlando,  and  to  the  Duke 
in  the  warning  voice  of  a  religious  man  who  speaks  to  his 
conscience  and  his  fear.  These  are  only  sketches  of  char- 
acters, not  intended  to  play  conspicuous  parts ;  but  we  see 
that  they  are  drawn  by  the  same  sure  hand  which  we  have 
seen  at  work  throughout  Shakespeare's  works. — Geevinus, 
Shakespeare  Commentaries. 


AS   YOU  LIKE  ITi  Comments 


THE  EXILED  DUKE 

The  exiled  Duke  is  a  perfect  exemplar  of  what  should 
comprise  a  Christian's  course — a  cheerful  gratitude  for  the 
benefits  that  have  been  showered  upon  him ;  a  calm,  yet 
firm  endurance  of  adversity  ;  a  tolerance  of  unkindness ;  and 
a  promptitude  to  forgive  injuries.  How  sweet,  and  yet 
how  strong  is  his  moral  nature !  It  seems  as  though  no 
trial,  social  or  physical,  could  change  the  current  of  his 
gracious  wisdom.  In  a  scene  subsequent  to  that  contain- 
ing his  celestial  confession  of  moral  faith,  we  have  the 
proof  that  his  philosophy  is  no  cold  profession  merely, — 
no  lip-deep  ostentation, — no  barren  theory  without  prac- 
tice. His  conduct  shows  that  his  cheerful  morality  nestles 
in  his  heart,  and  inspires  his  actions.  It  is  the  seventh 
Scene  of  the  second  Act,  where  he  and  his  followers  are 
about  to  sit  down  to  their  woodland  meal,  when  Orlando 
rushes  in  with  his  drawn  sword,  and  demands  food.  There 
is  in  every  point  of  the  Duke's  behavior  on  this  occasion, 
the  forbearance,  the  gentleness,  the  charity,  and  the  cor- 
dial courtesy  which  grow  out  of  such  philosophy  as  his — 
that  of  unaffected  contentment.  "Sweet  are  the  uses  of 
adversity,"  indeed,  when  they  teach  such  lessons  as  these! 
We  cannot  fancy  that  this  true-hearted  gentleman  could 
have  so  perfected  his  native  character  had  he  never  known 
the  reverse  of  fortune,  which  exiled  him  from  his  court, 
and  sent  him  among  the  forest-trees  to  learn  wisdom  from 
all-bounteous  Nature ;  to  know  the  worth  of  his  true 
friends,  who  forsook  land  and  station  to  share  his  seclu- 
sion ;  and  to  secure  a  peace  of  soul  seldom  known  to  those 
who  live  perpetually  in  the  turmoil  of  public  life.  We 
find  how  dear  his  sylvan  haunts  have  become  to  him ;  how 
happy  have  been  the  hours  spent  among  them  with  his 
friends ;  how  entirely  their  calm  has  penetrated  his  soul, 
and  made  part  of  his  existence,  by  the  unwillingness  with 
which  he  prepares  to  quit  these  scenes  at  the  end  of  the 
play,  when  his  dukedom  is  restored  to  him.  He  receives 
the  news  with  his  own  philosophic  composure;  and,  by  a 

xli 


Comiueuts  AS    YOU    LIKE    IT 

word  or  two  that  he  lets  fall,  it  may  be  shrewdly  suspected 
that  lie  only  intends  returning'  to  repossess  himscU"  of  his 
birthright,  in  order  to  secure  it  for  his  daughter  Rosalind, 
and  her  future  husband,  Orlando;  and  then  that  he  will 
quietly  leave  the  young  people  at  court,  and  steal  back 
with  u  few  of  his  faithful  friends  to  close  their  days  in 
retirement  on  the  spot  where  they  have  been  so  contentedly 
happy.  Mayhap,  as  the  years  creep  on,  and  age-aches 
warn  him  not  to  disregard  the  "seasons'  difference,"  he 
will  exchange  the  table  under  the  greenwood  tree  for  one 
beneath  the  oaken  roof.  But  be  sure  that  his  house  will  be 
close  upon  the  forest  glades,  and  on  his  table  will  smoke 
a  haunch  of  the  red  deer  for  old  lang  syne. — Clarke, 
Shakespeare-Characters. 

JAQUES 

Jaques  envies  no  one.  He  is  satirical,  but  not  venomous. 
He  is  drawn  to  Rosalind  and  Orlando,  though  they  will 
not  have  anything  to  do  with  his  melancholy  egotism, 
which,  in  their  eyes,  makes  him  wearisome.  He  seeks  peo- 
ple who  think  which  the  womout  sensualist  does  not ;  who 
have  what  the  Duke  calls  "matter"  in  them  for  which  the 
mere  cynic  does  not  care.  He  is  reallj^  interested  in  the 
fate  of  the  wounded  deer,  though  he  makes  it  a  text  for 
his  moralizing  only,  and  will  not  stir  from  his  couch  of 
moss  to  help  it.  He  is  vain  of  his  brooding  thoughtful- 
ness,  and  of  course  he  has  plent\^  to  think  of.  His  wild 
life  has  given  him  knowledge  of  the  purlieus  of  human 
nature,  and  their  many  problems.  When  he  remembers  all 
this  matter  of  humanity,  he  is  sullen,  but  not  savage;  and 
then  old  gentlemen,  like  the  banished  Duke,  who  are  void 
of  his  storied  experience  of  life,  seek  him  out  and  taste 
through  his  moralizing  a  pleasant  savour  of  far-off 
naughtiness,  of  a  world  fuller  and  more  varied  than  the 
forest.  This  was  sure  to  please  an  exile  from  the  world 
like  the  Duke,  who,  though  he  makes  the  best  of  the  wild 
wood,  will  not  be  sorry  to  get  back  to  the  court.     The 

xlii 


AS   YOU   LIKE   IT  Comments 

good  stuff  of  thought  in  Jaques  somewhat  excuses  his  ego- 
tism. But  he  is  over-vain  of  it,  and  when  Rosahnd  laughs 
at  his  apparent  wisdom  and  tells  him  it  is  really  folly,  he  is 
hurt ;  and  the  hurt  is  the  deeper,  because  an  inward  whisper 
tells  him  Rosalind  is  right. — Brooke,  On  Ten  Plays  of 
Shakespeare. 

Jaques  has  clearly  morbid  traits ;  yet  he  represents  a 
t^'pe  very  characteristic  of  the  earh'  seventeenth  century, 
and  one  which,  as  the  minute  and  elaborate  drawing  shovvS, 
greatly  interested  Shakespeare.  The  staple  of  his  ""melan- 
choly" was  the  vague  sadness  of  a  sated  brain,  the  de- 
spondent waking  after  the  glorious  national  revelry  of 
Elizabeth's  prime.  But  there  are  glimpses  in  it  of  a  pro- 
founder  and  nobler  melancholy,  which  Shakespeare  him- 
self, it  can  hardly  be  doubted,  came  to  share,  melancholy  of 
a  profound  sensitiveness  to  wrong  and  suffering.  Jaques's 
effusive  pathos  over  the  wounded  stag,  strange  and  un- 
timely note  as  it  sounds  among  the  blithe  horns  and  carols 
of  the  hunters,  preludes  a  deeper,  more  comprehensive  pity, 
— the  stuff  of  which,  in  the  next  years,  the  gi'cat  tragedies 
were  to  be  wrought. — Herford,  The  Eversley  Shake- 
speare. 

Jaques  is  Shakespeare's  embodiment  of  a  doctrine  that  is 
scattered  in  fragments  about  his  early  plays,  the  doctrine 
of  Aristotle  which  associates  melancholj'^  with  certain  ab- 
normal or  highly-developed  mental  power ;  this  melancholy, 
vulgarized  into  a  "humour"  which  came  mostly  from 
France,  had  not  long  before  played  its  part  in  Jonson's 
Evert/  Man  in  his  Humor;  but  Shakespeare  dignifies  the 
conception,  though  Jaques  can  "suck  melancholy  out  of 
a  song,  as  a  weasel  sucks  eggs." — Luce,  Handbook  to 
Shakespeare's  Work. 

In  the  character  of  Jaques  it  is  very  evident  that  Shake- 
speare intended  to   represent  a  certain   delicate   shade   of 

incipient  melancholia The  melancholy  of  Jaques 

xiiii 


Comments  [  AS    YOU   LIKE   IT 

is  not  so  much  a  flxed  condition  of  disease  as  the  gradual 

ingravescence  of  the  .melancholic  state After  a 

careful  examination  of  him,  we  confess  our  inability  to  dis- 
cover anything  more  really  morbid  in  his  mental  or 
moral  organization  than  what  is  glanced  at  above  as  be- 
longing to  the  initiatory  stage  of  the  disease. — Kellogg, 
Shakespeare's  Delmeations  of  Insanity. 

THE  SEVEN  AGES  OF  MAN 

All  the  characters  in  Jaques'  sketch  are  well  taken  care 
of.  The  infant  is  nursed ;  the  boy  is  educated ;  the  youth, 
tormented  by  no  greater  cares  than  the  necessity  of  hunting 
after  rhymes  to  please  the  ear  of  a  lady,  whose  love  sits 
so  lightly  upon  him  as  to  set  him  upon  nothing  more  seri- 
ous than  such  a  self-amusing  task ;  the  man  in  prime  of  life 
is  engaged  in  gallant  deeds,  brave  in  action,  anxious  for 
character,  and  ambitious  of  fame ;  the  man  in  declining 
years  has  won  the  due  honors  of  his  rank,  he  enjoys  the 
luxuries  of  the  table,  and  dispenses  the  terrors  of  the 
bench ;  the  man  of  age  still  more  advanced  is  well-to-do 
in  the  world.  If  his  shank  be  shrunk,  it  is  not  without 
hose  and  slipper;  if  his  eyes  be  dim,  they  are  spectacled; 
if  his  years  have  made  him  lean,  they  have  gathered  for 
him  the  wherewithal  to  fatten  the  pouch  by  his  side.  And 
when  this  strange,  eventful  history  is  closed  by  the  penal- 
ties paid  by  men  who  live  too  long,  Jaques  does  not  tell  us 
that  the  helpless  being,  "sans  teeth,  sans  eyes,  sans  taste, 
sans  everything,"  is  left  unprotected  in  his  helplessness. — ■ 
Maginn,  Shakespeare  Papers. 

TOUCHSTONE 

The  fool  whom  Jacques  so  envies,  who  is  his  counter- 
part and  mental  kinsman,  is  the  merry  clown  Touchstone, 
He  is  a  genuine  old  English  clown — in  the  Shakespearean 
form — a  fool  with  the  jingling  cap  and  bells,  one  who 
is  and  wishes  to  be  a  fool ;  the  same  personification  of  ca- 

xiiv 


AS   YOU   LIKE   IT  Comments 

price  and  ridicule,  and  with  the  same  keen  perception  of 
the  faults  and  failings  of  mankind  as  Jacques,  but  a  fool 
with  his  own  knowledge  and  consent,  and  not  merely  passive 
but  active  also.  He  speaks,  acts  and  directs  his  whole  life 
in  accordance  with  the  capricious  folly  and  foolish  capri- 
ciousness  which  he  considers  to  be  the  principles  of  human 
existence.  While  therefore  the  other  lovers  are  in  pursuit 
of  their  high  ideals  of  beauty,  amiability  and  virtue,  and 
yet  do  not  in  reality  attain  anything  beyond  the  common 
human  standard,  he  takes  to  himself  quite  an  ordinary, 
silly,  ugly,  peasant  girl;  he  loves  her,  in  fact,  just  because 
she  pleases  him,  and  she  pleases  him  just  because  he  loves 
her.  This  is  the  obstinacy  of  love  in  its  full  force,  as 
conceived  by  Shakespeare  in  his  comedies.  And  yet  this 
capriciousness  which  apparently  ridicules  itself,  at  the  same 
time,  contains  a  significant  trait  in  which  he  exhibits  his 
inmost  nature,  a  trait  of  what  is  simple,  natural,  and  com- 
mon to  all  men,  in  contrast  to  what  is  exaggerated  and  un- 
natural, and  to  all  that  which  is  sentimental,  eccentric  and 
fantastic — a  genuine  human  trait  which,  however,  he  had 
hitherto  been  unable  to  show.  While,  further,  all  the  other 
characters  have  chosen  the  secluded  free  life  of  the  Forest 
of  Arden  on  account  of  their  outward  circumstances  or  in- 
ward impulse,  in  short,  with  good  reason  or  free  will, 
he  alone  has  gone  there  without  any  occasion  or  reason 
whatever;  he  has  even  done  so  against  his  own  inclination 
as  the  good  cheer  at  court  suited  him  far  better;  in  other 
words  he  has  done  so  deliberately  in  the  actual  sense  of 
the  word.  And  yet  it  is  just  in  this  that  he  again,  under 
the  mask  of  folly,  shows  a  trait  of  genuine  human  nature, 
noble  unselfishness  and  fidelity.  Lastly,  while  all  the 
other  characters  appear  more  or  less  like  the  unconscious 
play-balls  of  their  own  caprices  and  whims,  feelings  and 
impulses,  he  proves  himself  to  be  the  one  that  makes  game 
both  of  himself  and  of  all  the  others ;  by  this  very  means, 
however,  he  shows  his  true  independence  and  freedom. 
And  inasmuch  as  he  consciously  and  intentionally  makes 
himself  a  fool  and  gives  free  reins  to  his  caprices,  freaks 

xlv 


Comments  *  '  AS    YOU    LIKE   IT 

and  humors,  he,  at  least,  shows  that  he  possesses  the  first 
necessary  elements  of  true  freedom,  the  consciousness  of, 
and  sovereignty  ovei'  himself.  He  the  professed  Fool  may 
frankly  be  declared  the  most  rational  person  of  the  whole 
curious  company,  for  he  alone  invariably  knows  his  own 
mind;  in  regarding  everything  as  sheer  folly,  he,  at  the 
same  time  takes  it  up  in  the  humor  in  which  it  is  meant  to 
be  understood.  Accordingly,  in  Touchstone  (who,  as  it 
were,  personifies  the  humor  which  pervades  the  whole),  we 
find  all  the  perversities  and  contradictions  of  a  life  and 
mode  of  life  as  you  like  it  reflected  in  a  concave  mirror; 
but  this  exterior,  at  the  same  time,  conceals  the  poetic  truth 
of  the  reverse  side  of  the  whole.  Therefore  we  find  a 
striking  contrast  to  him  in  Sir  Oliver  Martext,  the  very 
embodiment  of  common  prose,  who  will  not  suffer  anything 
to  lead  him  from  his  own  text,  but  in  doing  this  thoroughly 
perverts  the  text  of  true  living  reality,  the  ideal,  poetical 
substance  of  the  book  of  life — Ulrici,  Shakespeare's 
Dramatic  Art. 

SILVIUS  AND  PHEBE 

Amongst  the  couples  whom  Hymen  unites  are  Silvias 
and  Phebe,  who  had  already  made  their  appearance  in 
Lodge's  romance.  The  novelist  had  censured  Phebe  for 
her  excessive  scorn,  and  had  emphasized  the  retribution  in 
kind  that  falls  upon  her  head.  But  his  picture  of  the  self- 
forgetting  devotion  of  Silvius  was,  on  the  whole,  sympa- 
thetic, and  neither  of  the  characters  moved  in  a  different 
plane  from  the  remaining  figures  in  the  story.  But  in  the 
drama  this  is  exactly  what  they  do,  for,  by  a  number  of 
minute  touches,  Shakspere  transposes  them  into  the  re- 
gion of  caricature.  Unlike  the  other  lovers,  they  speak 
uniformly  in  verse  instead  of  prose,  and  this  in  itself  gives 
a  distinctively  idealistic  flavor  to  their  sentiments.  Silvius' 
recital  in  strophic  form  to  Corin  of  the  signs  of  true  love, 
ending  with  the  triple  invocation  of  the  name  of  Phebe, 
prepares  us  for  the  pageant  played  between  him  and  his 

xivi 


AS   YOU   LIKE    IT  Comments 

disdainful  mistress.  Phebe  has  all  the  "regulation"  chamis 
of  a  pastoral  nymph — inky  brows,  black  silk  hair,  bugle 
eyeballs,  and  cheeks  of  cream ;  but  these  are  turned  into 
burlesque  by  the  addition  of  "a  leathern  hand,  a  free-stone 
coloured  hand."  She  has  been  allowed  a  very  pretty  gift 
of  language,  and  her  process  of  proof  to  Silvius  that  eyes, 
"the  frailest,  softest  things,  who  shut  their  coward  gates 
on  atomies,"  cannot  be  called  butchers  or  murderers,  is  a 
charming  piece  of  filigree  logic.  But  her  dainty  terms  be- 
come ridiculous  when  they  are  used  to  express  her  love  for 
Ganymede ;  and  the  poetical  epistle  in  which  she  questions 
the  supposed  youth  whether  he  is  a  "god  to  shepherd 
turned,"  and  promises,  if  her  passion  is  fruitless,  to  "study 
how  to  die,"  is  a  glaring  travesty  of  the  sentimental  ef- 
fusions of  the  conventional  love-lorn  Phyllises  and  Chloes. 
Similarly  the  "tame  snake,"  Silvius,  who  is  satisfied  to  live 
upon  a  "scattered  smile"  loosed  riow  and  then  by  his  mis- 
tress, and  who  bears  her  letter  to  Ganymede  in  the  fond  be- 
lief that  it  has  an  angry  tenor,  is  a  parody  of  that  true  loy- 
alty of  heart  which,  as  seen  in  Orlando,  is  no  enemy  to  either 
cheerfulness  or  self-respect.  At  the  end  of  the  comedy, 
when  they  have  served  the  dramatist's  purpose,  they  are 
united  in  marriage  like  the  other  lovers ;  but  this  similarity 
of  fate  does  not  annul  the  contrast  between  the  Dresden- 
china  couple,  and  the  true  children  of  nature,  Orlando  and 
Rosalind. — Boas,  Shakspere  and  his  Predecessors. 

THE  FOREST  OF  ARDEN 

It  has  been  truly  and  beautifully  said  of  Shakspere, — 
"All  his  excellences,  like  those  of  Nature  herself,  are  thrown 
out  together;  and,  instead  of  interfering  with,  support 
and  recommend  each  other.  His  flowers  are  not  tied  up 
in  garlands,  nor  his  fruits  crushed  into  baskets — but  spring 
living  from  the  soil,  in  all  the  dew  and  freshness  of 
youth."  ^     But  there  are  critics  of  another  caste,  who  ob- 

1  Knight,  Pictorial  Shakespeare. 
xlvii 


Comments  AS   YOU   LIKE   IT 

ject  to  Shakspere's  forest  of  Arden,  situated,  as  they  hold, 
"between  the  rivers  Meuse  and  Moselle."  They  maintain 
that  its  geographical  position  ought  to  have  been  known 
by  Shakspere ;  and  that  he  is  consequently  most  vehemently 
to  be  reprehended  for  imagining  that  a  palm-tree  could 
flourish,  and  a  lionsss  be  starving,  in  French  Flanders. 
We  most  heartily  wish  that  the  critics  would  allow  poetry 
to  have  its  own  geography.  We  do  not  want  to  know  that 
Bohemia  has  no  seaboard ;  we  do  not  wish  to  have  the  island 
of  Sycorax  defined  on  the  map ;  we  do  not  require  that  our 
forest  of  Arden  should  be  the  Arduenna  Sylva  of  Cassar 
and  Tacitus,  and  that  its  rocks  should  be  "clay-slate, 
grauwacke-slate,  grauvacke,  conglomerate,  quartz-rock, 
and  quartzose  sandstone,"  We  are  quite  sure  that  Ariosto 
was  thinking  nothing  of  French  Flanders  when  he  de- 
scribed how 

"two  fountains  grew. 
Like  in  the  taste,  but  in  effects  unlike, 
Plac'd  in  Ardenna,  each  in  other's  view: 
Who  tastes  the  one,  love's  dart  his  heart  doth  strike 
Contrary  of  the  other  dost  ensue, 
Who  drinks  thereof,  their  lovers  shall  mislike." 

We  are  equally  sure  that  Shakspere  meant  to  take  his  for- 
est out  of  the  region  of  the  literal,  when  he  assigned  to  it 
a  palm-tree  and  a  lioness. 

Banishment  and  flight  have  assembled  together  in  the 
Forest  of  Arden  a  singular  society :  a  Duke  dethroned  by 
his  brother,  and,  with  his  faithful  companions  in  misfor- 
tune, living  in  the  wilds  on  the  produce  of  the  chase ;  two 
distinguished  princesses,  who  love  each  other  with  a  sisterly 
aff^ection ;  a  witty  court  fool ;  lastly,  the  native  inhabitants 
of  the  forest,  ideal  and  natural  shepherds  and  shep- 
herdesses. These  lightly-sketched  figures  pass  along  in  the 
most  diversified  succession ;  we  see  always  the  shady,  dark- 
green  landscape  in  the  background,  and  breathe  in  imagi- 
nation the  fresh  air  of  the  forest.  The  hours  are  here 
measured  by  no  clocks,  no  regulated  recurrence  of  duty 
or  toil;  they  flow  on  unnumbered  in  voluntary  occupation 

xlviii 


AS   YOU  LIKE   IT  Comments 

or  fanciful  idleness,  to  which  every  one  addicts  himself  ac- 
cording to  his  humor  or  disposition ;  and  this  unlimited 
freedom  compensates  all  of  them  for  the  lost  conveniences 
of  life.  One  throws  himself  down  solitarily  under  a  tree 
and  indulges  in  melancholy  reflections  on  the  changes  of 
fortune,  the  falsehood  of  the  world,  and  the  self-created 
torments  of  social  life ;  others  make  the  woods  resound  with 
social  and  festive  songs  to  the  accompaniment  of  their 
horns.  Selfishness,  envy,  and  ambition  have  been  left  in 
the  city  behind  them ;  of  all  the  human  passions,  love  alone 
has  found  an  entrance  into  the  wilderness,  where  it  dictates 
the  same  language  to  the  simple  shepherd  and  the  chival- 
rous youth  who  hangs  his  love-ditty  to  a  tree.  A  prudish 
shepherdess  falls  instantaneously  in  love  with  Rosalind,  dis- 
guised in  man's  apparel ;  the  latter  sharply  reproaches  her 
with  her  severity  to  her  poor  lover,  and  the  pain  of  refusal, 
which  she  at  length  feels  from  her  own  experience,  dis- 
poses her  to  compassion  and  requital.  The  fool  carries 
his  philosophical  contempt  of  external  show  and  his  raillery 
of  the  illusion  of  love  so  far,  that  he  purposely  seeks  out 
the  ugliest  and  simplest  country  wench  for  a  mistress. 
Throughout  the  whole  picture  it  seems  to  have  been  the 
intention  of  the  poet  to  show  that  nothing  is  wanted  to 
call  forth  the  poetry  which  has  its  dwelling  in  nature  and 
the  human  mind,  but  to  throw  off  all  artificial  constraint 
and  restore  both  to  their  native  liberty. — Schlegel,  Lec- 
tures on  Dramatic  Literature. 

Shakespeare  has  made  the  inhabitants  of  this  forest  ap- 
pear so  happy  in  their  banishment,  that,  when  they  are 
called  back  to  the  cares  of  the  world,  it  seems  more  like  a 
punishment  than  a  reward.  Jaques  has  too  much  prudence 
to  leave  his  retirement ;  and  yet,  when  his  associates  are  de- 
parted, his  state  can  no  longer  be  enviable,  as  refined 
society  was  the  charm  which  seemed  here  to  bestow  on  coun- 
try life  its  more  than  usual  enjoyments. — Inchbaj^d,  "As 
yoii  like  it"  in  The  British  Theatre. 


Comments  AS    YOU   LIKE    IT 

A  PASTORAL  COMEDY 

Though  said  to  be  oftener  read  than  any  other  of  Shake- 
speare's plays,  As  You  Like  It  is  certainly  less  fascinat- 
ing than  several  of  his  other  comedies.  The  dramatist 
has  presented  us  with  a  pastoral  comedy,  the  characters  of 
which,  instead  of  belonging  to  an  ideal  pastoral  age,  are 
true  copies  of  what  Nature  would  produce  under  similar 

conditions The  poet  has  relieved  the  development 

of  a  melancholy  subject  and  an  insignificant  story  by  the 
introduction  of  a  more  than  usual  number  of  really  indi- 
vidual subordinate  characters.  Even  Rosalind,  that  beau- 
tiful but  willful  representation  of  woman's  passion,  is  not 
an  important  accessory  to  the  moral  purpose  of  the  com- 
edy ;  and  the  other  characters,  however  gracefully  delin- 
eated, are  not  amalgamated  into  an  artistic  action  with  that 
full  power  which  overwhelms  us  with  astonishment  in  the 
grander  efforts  of  Shakespeare's  genius. — Halliwell, 
Introduction  to  "As  You  Like  It." 

A  PLEASING  PLAY 

Few  comedies  of  Shakespeare  are  more  generally  pleas- 
ing, and  its  manifold  improbabilities  do  not  much  affect 
us  in  perusal.  The  brave  injured  Orlando,  the  sprightly 
but  modest  Rosalind,  the  faithful  Adam,  the  reflecting 
Jaques,  the  serene  and  magnanimous  Duke,  interest  us  by 
turns,  though  the  play  is  not  so  well  managed  as  to  con- 
dense our  sympathy,  and  direct  it  to  the  conclusion. — 
Hallam,  Literature  of  Europe. 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 


DRAMATIS  PERSONS 

Duke,  living  in  banishment 

Frederick,  his  brother,  and  usurper  of  his  dominions 

— .  y  '    >  lords  attending  on  the  banished  Duke 

Le  Beau,  o  courtier  attending  upon  Frederick 
Charles,  wrestler  to  Frederick 

-r        T'     >  sons  of  Sir  Rowland  de  Boys 
Jaques,     J  '  " 

^        '        >  servants  to  Oliver 
Denkis,    J 

Touchstone,  a  clown 

Sir  Oliver  Martext,  a  vicar 

CORIN,  -»    ^J^       J^^^^ 

Sylvius,    j        ^ 

William,  a  country  fellow,  in  love  with  Audrey 

A  person  representing  Hymen 

Rosalind,  daughter  to  the  banished  Duke 
Celia,  daughter  to  Frederick 
Phebe,  a  shepherdess 
Audrey,  a  country  wench 

Lords,  pages,  and  attendants,  &c. 

Scene:  Oliver's  house;  Duke  Frederick's  court;  and  the  Forest  of 

Arden 


The  pronunciation  of  "Jaques"  is  still  somewhat  doubtful,  though 
the  metrical  test  makes  it  certain  that  it  is  always  a  dissyllable  in 
Shakespeare:  there  is  evidence  that  the  name  was  well  known  in 
England,  and  ordinarily  pronounced  as  a  monosyllable;  hence  Har- 
rington's Metamorphosis  of  A-jax  (1596).  The  name  of  the  char- 
acter was  probably  rendered  "Jakes":  the  modern  stage  practice  is  in 
favor  of  "Jaq-wes." — I.  G. 


SYNOPSIS 

By  J.  Ellis  Burdick 

ACT    I 

Frederick,  the  younger  brother  of  a  French  Duke, 
usurps  the  place  of  his  brother  and  banishes  him.  The 
rightful  Duke  retires  to  the  forest  of  Arden  and  is  there 
joined  by  a  few  of  his  faithful  friends  whose  possessions 
are  confiscated  by  the  usurper.  The  Duke's  daughter 
Rosalind  remains  at  her  uncle's  court  as  a  companion  for 
her  cousin  Celia.  These  two  girls  have  been  bred  together 
from  their  cradles  and  "never  two  ladies  loved  as  they  do." 
In  disguise,  Orlando,  the  son  of  one  of  the  banished  Duke's 
friends,  wrestles  with  the  Duke's  wrestler  and  is  victorious. 
Frederick  is  kindly  disposed  toward  the  youth  until  he 
finds  out  who  he  is.  Rosalind  rejoices  to  know  of  this  re- 
lationship, for  she  is  much  attracted  to  Orlando,  Because 
of  her  accomplishments  and  for  the  sake  of  her  father, 
Rosalind  has  many  friends — so  many  that  her  uncle  grows 
alarmed  and  banishes  her  from  his  court.  Celia  insists  on 
accompanying  her  cousin,  as  she  sa3's,.for  "the  love  which 
teacheth  thee  that  thou  and  I  am  one." 

ACT   n 

The  ladies  take  with  them  Frederick's  clown,  who  is  de- 
voted to  both  of  them.  Rosalind  dresses  herself  as  a  coun- 
try-man and  Celia  as  his  sister.  They  find  their  way  to 
the  Forest  of  Arden,  and  not  knowing  in  what  part  of 
the  woods  to  look  for  the  Duke,  they  purchase  a  shep- 
herd's house  and  his  flocks.  Orlando,  finding  it  impossible 
to  live  peacefully  with  his  elder  brother  Oliver  and  fearing 


Synopsis  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

the  latter's  evil  designs,  also  journeys  to  this  forest  to  join 
the  banished  Duke. 

ACT  in 

On  the  day  of  the  wrestling-match,  Orlando  had  fallen  in 
love  with  Rosalind  and  he  now  spends  much  of  his  time 
writing  verses  about  her  and  fastening  them  to  the  trees. 
Rosalind  and  Celia  find  some  of  these,  and  Rosalind,  ix- 
membei'ing  how  she  is  dressed,  is  distressed  to  think  Orlando 
is  so  near.  But  she  soon  recovers  her  light  spirits  and  de- 
cides to  talk  to  him  as  youth  to  youth  and  find  out  how 
much  he  really  cares  for  her.  She  invites  him  to  visit  her 
and  to  talk  to  her  as  he  would  like  to  talk  to  Rosalind. 
Orlando  gladly  accepts  this  offer. 

ACT    IV 

Orlando's  brother  Oliver  follows  Orlando  to  the  forest  to 
do  him  harm.  He  is  discovered  by  the  younger  man,  sleep- 
ing under  an  oak-tree  and  in  two-fold  danger  of  his  life  by 
a  snake  and  by  a  lioness.  Orlando  is  tempted  to  leave  his 
brother  to  his  fate,  but  the  good  in  him  triumphs  over  this 
evil  thought  and  he  saves  Oliver's  life.  But  in  so  do- 
ing he  himself  is  wounded  by  the  lioness.  He  sends  Oliver, 
who  has  repented  of  his  treatment  of  him,  to  tell  Rosalind 
of  his  injury.  Rosalind  swoons  at  the  news,  but  pretends 
that  the  faint  was  only  counterfeit. 

ACT    V 

Oliver  has  fallen  in  love  with  Celia,  and  she  returns  his 
affection.  They  decide  to  be  married  very  shortly,  and 
Rosalind,  still  in  male  disguise,  promises  Orlando  that  he 
shall  marry  his  lady-love  at  the  same  time  and  that  she 
will  find  a  way  to  bring  the  lady  to  him.  Rosalind  finds 
her  father  and  obtains  his  permisssion  for  his  daughter  to 
marry  Orlando.  Then  she  and  Celia  retire  and  return  in 
their  proper  dress.  The  Duke  and  Orlando  are  delighted 
at  the  transformation.     The  weddings  take  place  imme- 

4 


AS   YOU  LIKE   IT  Synopsis 

diately,  and  instead  of  just  two  couples,  there  are  four, 
for  the  clown  who  had  accompanied  the  ladies  to  the  foi*- 
est  had  met  and  loved  a  country-lass,  and  the  fourth  cou- 
ple are  a  shepherd  and  his  sweetheart.  The  joy  of  the 
wedding  party  is  increased  by  the  news  which  comes  to  them 
of  Duke  Frederick.  While  on  his  way  to  the  forest  to 
capture  his  brother  and  put  him  to  the  sword,  he  had  met 
"with  an  old  religious  man,"  and  "after  some  question  with 
him,  was  converted  both  from  his  enterprise  and  from  the 
world,  his  crown  bequeathing  to  his  banished  brother,  and 
all  their  lands  restored  to  them  again  that  were  with  him 
exiled." 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

ACT  FIRST 

Scene  I 

Orchard  of  Oliver's  house. 

Enter  Orlando  and  Adam. 

Orl.  As  I  remember,  Adam,  it  was  upon  this 
fashion:  bequeathed  me  by  will  but  poor  a 
thousand  crowns,  and,  as  thou  sayest, 
charged  my  brother,  on  his  blessing,  to  breed 
me  well :  and  there  begins  my  sadness.  My 
brother  Jaques  he  keeps  at  school,  and  report 
speaks  goldenly  of  his  profit:  for  my  part, 
he  keeps  me  rustically  at  home,  or,  to  speak 
more  properly,  stays  me  here  at  home  un- 

1.  "it  was  upon  this  fashion:  bequeathed,"  &c.  The  Folio  does 
not  place  a  stop  at  "fashion,"  but  makes  "bequeathed"  a  past  par- 
ticiple; the  words  "charged"  .  .  .  "on  his  blessing"  presuppose 
"he"  or  "my  father";  the  nominative,  may,  however,  be  easily  sup- 
plied from  the  context,  or  possibly,  but  doubtfully,  "a"  (="he") 
has  been  omitted  before  "charged."  There  is  very  much  to  be  said 
in  favor  of  the  Folio  reading;  a  slight  confusion  of  two  construc- 
tions seems  to  have  produced  the  diflSculty.  Warburton,  Hanmer, 
and  Capell  proposed  to  insert  "my  father"  before  "bequeathed." 
Others  punctuate  in  the  same  way  as  in  the  present  text,  but 
read  "he  bequeathed"  or  "my  father  bequeathed" ;  the  Cambridge 
editors  hold  that  the  subject  of  the  sentence  is  intentionally  omitted. 
—I.  G. 


Act  I.  Sc.  i.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

kept ;  for  call  you  that  keeping  for  a  gentle-  10 
man  of  iny  birth,  that  differs  not  from  the 
stalling  of  an  ox?  His  horses  are  bred  bet- 
ter; for,  besides  that  they  are  fair  with  their 
feeding,  they  are  taught  their  manage,  and 
to  that  end  riders  dearly  hired:  but  I,  his 
brother,  gain  nothing  under  him  but  growth ; 
for  the  which  his  animals  on  his  dunghills  are 
as  much  bound  to  him  as  I.  Besides  this 
nothing  that  he  so  plentifully  gives  me,  the 
something  that  nature  gave  me  his  counte-  20 
nance  seems  to  take  from  me :  he  lets  me  feed 
with  his  hinds,  bars  me  the  place  of  a 
brother,  and,  as  much  as  in  him  lies,  mines 
my  gentility  with  my  education.  This  is  it, 
Adam,  that  grieves  me ;  and  the  spirit  of  my 
father,  which  I  think  is  within  me,  begins  to 
mutiny  against  this  servitude:  I  will  no 
longer  endure  it,  though  yet  I  know  no  wise 
remedy  how  to  avoid  it. 

Adam.  Yonder  comes  my  master,  your  brother. 

Orl.  Go  apart,  Adam,  and  thou  shalt  hear  how 
he  will  shake  me  up. 

Enter  Oliver. 

Oli.  Now,  sir!  what  make  you  here? 
Orl.  Nothing:     I  am  not  taught  to  make  any 
thing. 

33.  "what  make  you   here";  that  is,  what   do  you  here?     See   The 
Merry  Wives  of  Windsor,  Act.  ii.  sc.  1,  and  Act  iv.  sc.  2. — H.  N.  H. 

8 


30 


AS  YOU  I.IKE  IT  Act  I.  Sc. 

OIL  What  mar  you  then,  sir? 

Orl.  Marry,  sir,  I  am  helping  you  to  mar  that 
which  God  made,  a  poor  unworthy  brother 
of  yours,  with  idleness. 

on.  Marry,  sir,  ])e  better  employed,  and  be 
naught  awhile.  40 

Orl.  Shall  I  keep  your  hogs  and  eat  husks  with 
them?  What  prodigal  portion  have  I  spent, 
that  I  should  come  to  such  penury? 

on.  Know  you  where  you  are,  sir? 

Orl.  O,  sir,  very  well,  here  in  your  orchard. 

OIL  Know  you  before  whom,  sir? 

Orl.  Aye,  better  than  him  I  am  before  knows 
me.  I  know  you  are  my  eldest  brother; 
and,  in  the  gentle  condition  of  blood,  you 
should  so  know  me.  The  courtesy  of  na-  50 
tions  allows  you  my  better,  in  that  you  are 
the  first-born;  but  the  same  tradition  takes 
not  away  my  blood,  were  there  t^venty 
brothers  betwixt  us :  I  have  as  much  of  my 
father  in  me  as  you;  albeit,  I  confess,  your 
coming  before  me  is  nearer  to  his  reverence. 

on.  What,  boy! 

Orl.  Come,  come,  elder  brother,  you  are  too 
young  in  this. 

on.  Wilt  thou  lay  hands  on  me,  villain  ? 

Orl.  I  am  no  villain ;  I  am  the  youngest  son  of 
Sir  Rowland  de  Boys;  he  was  my  father, 
and  he  is  thrice  a  villain  that  says  such  a 
father  begot  villains.     Wert  thou  not  my 


60 


Uf' 


Act  I.  Sc.  i.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

brother,  I  would  not  take  this  hand  from 
thy  throat  till  this  other  had  pulled  out  thy 
tongue  for  saying  so;  thou  hast  railed  on 
thyself. 

Adam.  Sweet  masters,  be  patient:  for  your 
father's  remembrance,  be  at  accord.  70 

OIL  Let  me  go,  I  say. 

Orl.  I  will  not,  till  I  please :  you  shall  hear  me. 
My  father  charged  you  in  his  will  to  give 
me  good  education :  you  have  trained  me  like 
a  peasant,  obscuring  and  hiding  from  me 
all  gentleman-like  qualities.  The  spirit  of 
my  father  grows  strong  in  me,  and  I  will 
no  longer  endure  it :  therefore  allow  me  such 
exercises  as  may  become  a  gentleman,  or 
give  me  the  poor  allottery  my  father  left  me  80 
by  testament;  with  that  I  will  go  buy  my 
fortunes. 

OIL  And  what  wilt  thou  do?  beg,  when  that  is 
spent?  Well,  sir,  get  you  in:  I  will  not 
long  be  troubled  with  you;  you  shall  have 
some  part  of  your  will:  I  pray  you,  leave 
me. 

OrL  I  will  no  further  offend  you  than  becomes 
me  for  my  good. 

OIL  Get  you  with  him,  you  old  dog.  90 

Adam.  Is  'old  dog'  my  reward?  Most  true, 
I  have  lost  my  teeth  in  your  service.  God 
be  with  my  old  master!  he  would  not  have 
spoke  such  a  word. 

[Exeunt  Orlando  and  Adam, 

OIL  Is  it  even  so?  begin  you  to  grow  upon  me? 

10 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  I.  Sc.  i. 

I  will  physic  your  rankness,  and  yet  give  no 
thousand  crowns  neither.     Holla,  Dennis! 

Enter  Dennis. 

Den.  Calls  your  worship? 

OIL  Was  not  Charles,  the  Duke's  wrestler,  here 

to  speak  with  me?  100 

Den.  So  please  you,  he  is  here  at  the  door  and 

importunes  access  to  you. 
Oli.  Call  him  in.     [Ecvit  Denriis.l     'Twill  be  a 

good  way;  and  to-morrow  the  wrestling  is. 

Enter  Charles. 

Cha.  Good  morrow  to  your  worship. 

Oli.  Good  Monsieur  Charles,  what's  the  new 
news  at  the  new  court? 

Cha.  There's  no  news  at  the  court,  sir,  but  the 
old  news:  that  is,  the  old  Duke  is  banished 
by  his  younger  brother  the  new  Duke ;  and  HO 
three  or  four  loving  lords  have  put  them- 
selves into  voluntary  exile  with  him,  whose 
lands  and  revenues  enrich  the  new  Duke; 
therefore  he  gives  them  good  leave  to 
wander. 

Oli.  Can    you    tell    if    Rosalind,    the    Duke's 
daughter,  be  banished  with  her  father? 

Cha.  O,    no;    for    the    Duke's    daughter,    her 
cousin,  so  loves  her,  being  ever  from  their 
cradles  bred  together,  that  she  would  have  120 
followed  her  exile,  or  have  died  to  stay  be- 
ns. "Duke'a  daughter";  that  is,  the  usurping  duke's  daughter. — ■ 

H.  N.  H. 

11 


Act  I.  Sc.  i.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

hind  her.  She  is  at  the  court,  and  no  less 
beloved  of  her  uncle  than  his  own  daughter ; 
and  never  two  ladies  ioved  as  they  do. 

on.  Where  will  the  old  Duke  live? 

Cha.  They  say  he  is  already  in  the  forest  of 
Arden,  and  a  many  merry  men  with  him; 
and  there  they  live  like  the  old  Robin  Hood 
of  England:  they  say  many  young  gentle- 

126.  "forest  of  Arden";  Ardenne  is  a  forest  of  considerable  extent 
in  French  Flanders,  lying  near  the  river  Meuse,  and  between  Charle- 
mont  and  Rocroy.     Spenser,  in  his  Colin  Clout,  mentions  it. 

"So  wide  a  forest,  and  so  waste  as  this. 
Not  famous  Ardeyn,  nor  foul  Arlo  was." 

In  Lodge's  Rosalynde  the  exiled  king  of  France  is  said  to  be  living 
as  "an  outlaw  in  the  forest  of  Arden." — H.  N.  H. 

128.  "old  Robin  Hood  of  England";  this  prince  of  outlaws   and 
"most  gentle  theefe"   lived  in  the  time  of  Richard   I,  and  had   his 
chief   residence   in    Sherwood    forest,    Notinghamshire.     Wordsworth 
aptly  styles  him  "the   English   ballad-singer's  joy";   and   in   Percy's 
Reliques  is  an  old  ballad  entitled  Robin  Hood  and  Guy  of  Qisborne, 
showing  how  his  praises  were  wont  to  be  sung.     Of  his  mode  of  life 
the  best  account  that  we  have  seen  is  in  the  twenty-sixth  song  of 
Drayton's  Poly-Olbion,  where  the  nymph  of  Sherwood  forest, 
"All  self-praise  set  apart,  determineth  to  sing 
That  lusty  Robin  Hood,  who  long  time  like  a  king 
Within  her  compass  liv'd,  and  when  he  list  to  range 
For  some  rich  booty  set,  or  else  his  air  to  change, 
To  Sherwood  still  retir'd,  his  only  standing  court. 
The  merry  pranks  he  pla\''d  would  ask  an  age  to  tell, 
And  the  adventures  strange  that  Robin  Hood  befell. 
In  this  our  spacious  isle  I  think  there  is  not  one. 
But  he  hath  heard  some  talk  of  him  and  Little  John; 
And  to  the  end  of  time  the  tales  shall  ne'er  be  done, 
Of  Scarlock,  George-a-Green,  and  Much  the  miller's  son, 
Of  Tuck  the  merry  friar,  which  many  a  sermon  made 
In  praise  of  Robin  Hood,  his  outlaws  and  their  trade. 
An  hundred  valiant  men  had  this  brave  Robin  Hood 
Still  ready  at  his  call,  that  bow-men  were  right  good. 
All  clad  in  Lincoln  green,  with  caps  of  red  and  blue; 
His  fellow's  winded  horn  not  one  of  them  but  knew, 
When,  setting  to  their  lips  their  little  bugles  shrill, 
12 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  i.  Sc.  i. 

men  flock  to  him  every  day,  and  fleet  the  130 
time  carelessly,  as  they  did  in  the  golden 
world. 

on.  What,  you  wrestle  to-morrow  before  the 
new  Duke? 

Cha.  JNIarry,  do  I,  sir;  and  I  came  to  acquaint 
you  with  a  matter.  I  am  given,  sir,  secretly 
to  understand  that  your  younger  brother, 
Orlando,  hath  a  disposition  to  come  in  dis- 
guised against  me  to  try  a  fall.  To-mor- 
row, sir,  I  wrestle  for  my  credit ;  and  he  that  140 
escapes  me  without  some  broken  limb  shall 
acquit  him  well.  Your  brother  is  but  young 
and  tender;  and  for  your  love,  I  would  be 
loath  to  foil  him,  as  I  must,  for  my  own 
honor,  if  he  come  in:  therefore,  out  of  my 
love  to  you,  I  came  hither  to  acquaint  you 
withal ;  that  either  you  might  stay  him  from 
his  intendment,  or  brook  such  disgrace  well 

The  warbling  Echoes  wak'd  from  every  dale  and  hill. 

And  of  these  archers  brave  there  was  not  any  one. 

But  he  could  kill  a  deer  his  swiftest  speed  upon, 

Which  they  did  boil  and  roast,  in  many  a  mighty  wood. 

Sharp  hunger  the  fine  sauce  to  their  more  kingly  food. 

Then  taking  them  to  rest,  his  merry  men  and  he 

Slept  many  a  summer's  night  under  the  greenwood  tree. 

From  wealthy  abbots'  chests,  and  churls'  abundant  store. 

What  oftentimes  he  took,  he  shar'd  amongst  the  poor: 

The  widow  in  distress  he  graciously  reliev'd. 

And  remedied  the  wrongs  of  many  a  virgin  griev'd: 

He  from  the  husband's  bed  no  married  woman  wan, 

But  to  his  mistress  dear,  his  loved  Marian, 

Was  ever  constant  known,  which,  wheresoe'er  she  came. 

Was  sovereign  of  the  woods,  chief  lady  of  the  game." 

Robin  Hood's  mode  of  life  is  well  set  forth  in  Ben  Jonson's  Sad 
Shepherd.— H.  N.  H. 

13 


Act  I.  Sc.  i.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

as  he  shall  run  into;  in  that  it  is  a  thing  of 
his  own  search  and  altogether  against  my  150 
will. 

Oli.  Charles,  I  thank  thee  for  thy  love  to  me,, 
which  thou  shalt  find  I  will  most  kindly 
requite.  I  had  myself  notice  of  my 
brother's  purpose  herein,  and  have  by  under- 
hand means  labored  to  dissuade  him  from  it, 
but  he  is  resolute.  I  '11  tell  thee,  Charles : — 
it  is  the  stubbornest  young  fellow  of 
France;  full  of  ambition,  an  envious  em- 
ulator of  every  man's  good  parts,  a  secret  1-60; 
and  villainous  contriver  against  me  his  nat- 
ural brother:  therefore  use  thy  discretion; 
I  had  as  lief  thou  didst  break  his  neck  as 
his  finger.  And  thou  wert  best  look  to  't; 
for  if  thou  dost  him  any  slight  disgrace,  or 
if  he  do  not  mightily  grace  himself  on  thee, 
he  will  practise  against  thee  by  poison,  en- 
trap thee  by  some  treacherous  device,  and 
never  leave  thee  till  he  hath  ta'en  thy  life  by 
some  indirect  means  or  other ;  for,  I  assure  170 
thee,  and  almost  with  tears  I  speak  it,  there 
is  not  one  so  young  and  so  villainous  this  day 
living.  I  speak  but  brotherly  of  him;  but 
should  I  anatomize  him  to  thee  as  he  is,  I 
must  blush  and  weep,  and  thou  must  look 
pale  and  wonder. 

Cha.  I  am  heartily  glad  I  came  hither  to  you. 
If  he  come  to-morrow,  I  '11  give  him  his 
payment :  if  ever  he  go  alone  again,  I  '11 


i 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  I.  Sc.  ii. 

never  wrestle  for  prize  more :  and  so,  God  180 
keep  your  worship ! 
OIL  Farewell,    good    Charles.     [Eant    Charles. ~\ 
Now  will  I  stir  this  gamester :  I  hope  I  shall 
see  an  end  of  him;  for  my  soul,  yet  I  know 
not  why,  hates  nothing  more  than  he.     Yet 
he's  gentle ;  never  schooled,  and  yet  learned ; 
full  of  noble  device;  of  all  sorts  enchant- 
ingly  beloved;  and  indeed  so  much  in  the 
heart  of  the  world,  and  especially  of  my 
own  people,  who  best  know  him,  that  I  am  190 
altogether  misprised:  but  it  shall  not  be  so 
long;  this  wrestler  shall  clear  all:  nothing 
remains  but  that  I  kindle  the  boy  thither; 
which  now  I  '11  go  about.  \_Eajit. 


Scene  II 

Lawn  before  the  Duke's  palace. 

Enter  Rosalind  and  Celia. 

Cel.  I  pray  thee,  Rosalind,  sweet  my  coz,  be 
merry. 

183.  "Gamester";  that  is,  frolicsome  fellow. — H.  N.  H. 

194.  "which,  now  I'll  go  about" ;  upon  this  passage  Coleridge  has  a 
very  characteristic  remark:  "It  is  too  venturous  to  charge  a  pas- 
sage in  Shakespeare  with  want  of  truth  to  nature;  and  yet  at  first 
sight  this  speech  of  Oliver's  expresses  truths,  which  it  seems  almost 
impossible  that  any  mind  should  so  distinctly  have  presented  to 
itself,  in  connection  with  feelings  and  intentions  so  malignant.  But 
I  dare  not  say  that  this  seeming  unnaturalness  is  not  in  the  nature 
of  an  abused  wilfulness,  when  united  with  a  strong  intellect.  In 
such  characters  there  is  sometimes  a  gloomy  self -gratification  in 
making  the  absoluteness  of  the  will  evident  to  themselves  by  setting 
the  reason  and  the  conscience  in  full  array  against  it." — H.  N.  H. 

15 


Act  I.  Sc.  ii.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

Ros.  Dear  Celia,  I  show  more  mirth  than  I  am 
mistress  of;  and  would  you  yet  I  were  mer- 
rier? Unless  you  could  teach  me  to  forget 
a  banished  father,  you  must  not  learn  me 
how  to  remember  any  extraordinary  pleas- 
ure. 

Cel.  Herein  I  see  thou  lovest  me  not  with  the 
full  weight  that  I  love  thee.  If  my  uncle,  10 
thy  banished  father,  had  banished  thy  uncle, 
the  Duke  my  father,  so  thou  hadst  been  still 
with  me,  I  could  have  taught  my  love  to 
take  thy  father  for  mine:  so  wouldst  thou, 
if  the  truth  of  thy  love  to  me  were  so  right- 
eously tempered  as  mine  is  to  thee. 

Ros.  Well,  I  will  forget  the  condition  of  my 
estate,  to  rejoice  in  yours. 

Cel.  You  know  my  father  hath  no  child  but  I, 
nor  none  is  like  to  have :  and,  truly,  when  he 
dies,  thou  shalt  be  his  heir ;  for  what  he  hath 
taken  away  from  thy  father  perforce,  I  will 
render  thee  again  in  affection;  by  mine 
honor,  I  will;  and  when  I  break  that  oath, 
let  me  turn  monster:  therefore,  my  sweet 
Rose,  my  dear  Rose,  be  merry. 

Ros.  From  henceforth  I  will,  coz,  and  devise 
sports.  Let  me  see ;  what  think  you  of  fall- 
ing in  love? 

Cel.  Marry,    I    prithee,    do,    to    make    sport   30 
withal :  but  love  no  man  in  good  earnest ;  nor 
no  further  in  sport  neither,  than  with  safety 

J7.  "condition  of  my  estate";  state  of  my  fortune. — C.  H.  H. 

4^ 


20 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  i.  Sc.  ii. 

of  a  pure  blush  thou  mayst  in  honor  come 

off  again. 
Ros.  What  shall  be  our  sport,  then? 
Cel.  liet  us  sit  and  mock  the  good  housewife 

Fortune  from  her  wheel,  that  her  gifts  may 

henceforth  be  bestowed  equally. 
Ros.  I  would  we  could  do  so;  for  her  benefits 

are  mightily  misplaced;  and  the  bountiful   40 

blind  woman  doth  most  mistake  in  her  gifts 

to  women. 
Cel.  'Tis  true;  for  those  that  she  makes  fair 

she  scarce  makes  honest;  and  those  that  she 

makes  honest  she  makes  very  ill-favoredly. 
Ros.  Nay,    now    thou    goest    from    Fortune's 

office  to  Nature's :  Fortune  reigns  in  gifts  of 

the  world,  not  in  the  lineaments  of  nature. 

Enter.  Touchstone. 


50 


Cel.  No?  when  Nature  hath  made  a  fair  crea- 
ture may  she  not  by  Fortune  fall  into  the 
fire?  Though  Nature  hath  given  us  wit  to 
flout  at  Fortune,  hath  not  Fortune  sent  in 
this  fool  to  cut  off  the  argument? 

Ros.  Indeed,  there  is  Fortune  too  hard  for 
Nature  when  Fortune  makes  Nature's 
natural  the  cutter-off  of  Nature's  wit. 

Cel.  Peradventure  this  is  not  Fortune's  work 
neither,  but  Nature's;  who  perceiveth  our 
natural  wits  too  dull  to  reason  of  such  god- 
desses, and  hath  sent  this  natural  for  our   60 

whetstone;  for  always  the  dullness  of  the 
XVIII— 2  17 


Act  I.  Sc.  ii.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

fool  is  the  whetstone  of  the  wits.     How 
now,  wit!  whither  wander  you? 

Touch,  Mistress,  you  must  come  away  to  your 
father. 

Cel.  Were  you  made  the  messenger? 

Touch.  No,  by  mine  honor,  but  I  was  bid  to 
come  for  you. 

Ros.  Where  learned  you  that  oath,  fool? 

Touch.  Of  a  certain  knight  that  swore  by  his  '70 
honor  they  were  good  pancakes,  and  swore 
by  his  honor  the  mustard  was  naught;  now 
I  '11  stand  to  it,  the  pancakes  were  naught 
and  the  mustard  was  good,  and  yet  was 
not  the  knight  forsworn. 

Cel,  How  prove  you  that,  in  the  great  heap  of 
your  knowledge? 

Ros.  Aye,  marry,  now  unmuzzle  your  wisdom. 

Touch.  Stand  you  both  forth  now :  stroke  your 
chins,  and  swear  by  your  beards  that  I  am 
a  knave. 

Cel.  By  our  beards,  if  we  had  them,  thou  art. 

Touch.  By  my  knavery,  if  I  had  it,  then  I 
were;  but  if  you  swear  by  that  that  is  not, 
you  are  not  forsworn:  no  more  was  this 
knight,  swearing  by  his  honor,  for  he  never 
had  any ;  or  if  he  had,  he  had  sworn  it  away 
before  ever  he  saw  those  pancakes  or  that 
mustard. 

Cel.  Prithee,  who  is  't  that  thou  meanest?  90 

70.  "a  certain  knight";  this  joke  had  already  appeared  in  the  old 
play  of  Damon  and  Pithias. — C.  H.  H. 

18 


80 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  i.  Sc.  ii. 

Touch.  One  that  old  Frederick,  your  father, 

loves. 
Cel.  My  father's  love  is  enough  to  honor  him: 

enough!  speak  no  more  of  him;  you'll  be 

whipped  for  taxation  one  of  these  days. 
Touch.  The   more   pity,   that   fools   may   not 

speak  wisely  what  wise  men  do  foolishly. 
Cel.  By  my  troth,  thou  sayest  true;  for  since 

the  little  wit  that  fools  have  was  silenced, 

the  little  foolery  that  wise  men  have  makes  100 

a  great  show.     Here  comes  Monsieur  Le 

Beau. 
Ros.  With  his  mouth  full  of  news. 
Cel.  Which  he  will  put  on  us,  as  pigeons  feed 

their  young. 
Ros.  Then  shall  we  be  news-crammed. 
Cel.  All    the    better;    we    shall    be    the    more 

marketable. 

91.  "old  Frederick";  old  is  here  used  merely  as  a  term  of  familiar- 
ity; not  meaning  aged. — H.  N.  H. 

93.  The  Folio  prefixes  "Rosalind"  to  the  speech:  Theobald  first 
proposed  the  change  to  "Celia,"  and  he  has  been  followed  by  most 
editors.  Capell  suggested  "Fernandine"  for  "Frederick"  in  the  pre- 
vious speech.  Shakespeare  does  not  give  us  the  name  of  Rosalind's 
father;  he  is  generally  referred  to  as  "Duke  Senior":  Celia's  father 
is  mentioned  as  "Frederick"  in  tvi^o  other  places  (1.  259  of  this 
scene,  and  V.  iv.  166).  One  has,  hovi^ever,  a  shrewd  suspicion  that 
Touchstone  is  referring  to  the  exiled  king  as  "old  Frederick,"  and 
that  Rosalind  speaks  the  words  "my  father's  love  is  enough  to 
honour  him";  the  expression  is  so  much  in  harmony  with  her  sub- 
sequent utterance,  11.  260-263. 

"My  father  loved  Sir  Rowland  as  his  soul." 

And  again,  in  the  next  scene,  1.  32: — 

"The  Duke  my  father  loved  his  father  dearly." — I.  G, 

19 


Act  I.  Sc.  ii.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

Enter  Le  Beau, 

Bon  jour.  Monsieur  Le  Beau;  what's  the 

news  ?  110 

Le  Beau.  Fair  princess,  you  have  lost  much 

good  sport. 
Cel.  Sport!  of  what  color? 
Le  Beau.  What   color    madam!   how    shall    I 

answer  you? 
Bos.  As  wit  and  fortune  will. 
Touch.  Or  as  the  Destinies  decrees. 
Cel.  Well  said:  that  was  laid  on  with  a  trowel. 
Touch.  Nay,  if  I  keep  not  my  rank, — 
Bos.  Thou  losest  thy  old  smell.  120 

Le  Beau.  You  amaze  me,  ladies :  I  would  have 

told  you  of  good  wrestling,  which  you  have 

lost  the  sight  of. 
Bos.  Yet  tell  us  the  manner  of  the  v/restling. 
Le  Beau.  I  will  tell  you  the  beginning;  and,  if 

it  please  your  ladyships,  you  may  see  the 

end;  for  the  best  is  yet  to  do;  and  here, 

where  you  are,  they  are  coming  to  perform 

it. 
Celj,  Well,   the   beginning,   that   is   dead   and  130 

buried. 
Le  Beau.  There   comes   an   old  man   and  his 

three  sons, — 
Cel.  I  could  match  this  beginning  with  an  old 

tale. 

118.  "laid  on  tvith  a  troirel";  this  Is  a  proverbial  phrase,  meaning 
to  do  anything  without  delicac}'.  If  a  man  flatter  grossly,  it  is  a 
common  expression  to  say,  he  lai/s  it  on  with  a  trowel. — H.  N.  H. 


20 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  i.  Sc  ii.  \ 

Lc  Beau.  Three  proper  young  men,  of  excel- 
lent growth  and  presence. 

Ros.  With  bills  on  their  necks,  'Be  it  known 
vinto  all  men  by  these  presents.' 

IjC  Beau.  The  eldest  of  the  three  wrestled  with  1 W 
Charles,  the  Duke's  wrestler;  which  Charles 
in  a  moment  threw  him,  and  broke  three  of 
his  ribs,  that  there  is  little  hope  of  life  in 
him:  so  he  served  the  second,  and  so  the  third. 
Yonder  they  lie;  the  poor  old  man,  their 
father,  making  such  pitiful  dole  over  them 
that  all  the  beholdei's  take  his  part  with 
weeping. 

Bos.  Alas! 

Touch.  But  what  is  the  sport,  monsieur,  that  150 
the  ladies  have  lost? 

Le  Beau.  Why,  this  that  I  speak  of. 

Touch.  Thus  men  may  grow  wiser  every  day: 
it  is  the  first  time  that  ever  I  heard  breaking 
of  ribs  was  sport  for  ladies. 

Cel.  Or  I,  I  promise  thee. 

Ros.  But  is  there  any  else  longs  to  see  this 
broken  music  in  his  sides?  is  there  yet  an- 
other dotes  upon  rib-breaking?  Shall  we  see 
this  wrestling,  cousin?  160 

138.  "with  bills  on  their  necks";  so  in  the  old  copies;  but  most 
editors  are  agreed  that  these  words  probably  belong  to  Le  Beau's 
speech,  though  the  matter  is  not  deemed  so  clear  as  to  warrant  a 
change.  Bills  were  instruments  or  weapons  used  by  watchmen  and 
foresters.  Watchmen  were  said  to  carry  their  bills  or  halberds  on 
their  necks,  not  on  their  shoulders.  Of  course  there  is  a  quibble  on 
the  word  bills,  the  latter  part  of  the  speech  referring  to  public  no- 
tices, which  were  generally  headed  with  the  words, — "Be  it  known 
unto  all  men  by  these  presents." — H.  N.  H. 

21 


Act  1.  Sc.  ii.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

LiC  Beau,  You  must,  if  you  stay  here ;  for  here 
is  the  place  appointed  for  the  wrestUng,  and 
they  are  ready  to  perform  it. 

Cel.  Yonder,  sure,  they  are  coming:  let  us  now 
stay  and  see  it. 

Flourish.     Enter  Duke  Frederick,  Lords, 
Orlando,  Charles,  and  Attendants. 

Duke  F.  Come  on:  since  the  youth  will  not  be 
entreated,  his  own  peril  on  his  forwardness. 

Ros.  Is  yonder  the  man? 

Le  Beau.  Even  he,  madam. 

Cel.  Alas,  he  is  too  young !  yet  he  looks  success-  I'^O 
fully. 

Duke  F.  How  now,  daughter  and  cousin!  are 
you  crept  hither  to  see  the  wrestling? 

Bos.  Aye,  my  hege,  so  please  you  give  us  leave. 

Duke  F.  You  will  take  little  delight  in  it,  I  can 
tell  you,  there  is  such  odds  in  the  man.  In 
pity  of  the  challenger's  youth  I  would  fain 
dissuade  him,  but  he  will  not  be  entreated. 
Speak  to  him,  ladies;  see  if  you  can  move 
him.  180 

Cel.  Call  him  hither,  good  Monsieur  Le  Beau. 

Duke  F.  Do  so:  I  '11  not  be  by. 

Le  Beau.  Monsieur  the  challenger,  the  prin- 
cess calls  for  you. 

176.  "such  odds  in  the  man";  so  in  the  original,  meaning,  of  course, 
the  man  is  so  unequal.  Man  is  usually  but  needlessly  altered  to  men. 
— H.  N.  H. 

183.  "the  princess  calls  for  you";  this  is  the  only  authorized  text. 
The  usual  reading  is,  "the  princesses  call  for  you";  the  text  being 
thus  changed,  to  make  it  agree  with  them  in  the  next  line.     But  the 

22 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  I.  Sc.  ii. 

Orl.  I  attend  them  with  all  respect  and  duty. 

Ros.  Young  man,  have  you  challenged  Charles 
the  wrestler? 

Orl.  No,  fair  princess;  he  is  the  general  chal- 
lenger: I  come  but  in,  as  others  do,  to  try 
with  him  the  strength  of  my  youth.  190 

Cel.  Young  gentleman,  your  spirits  are  too 
bold  for  your^ears.  You  have  seen  cruel 
proof  of  this  man's  strength:  if  you  saw 
yourself  with  your  eyes,  or  knew  yourself 
with  your  judgment,  the  fear  of  your  ad- 
venture would  counsel  you  to  a  more  equal 
enterprise.  We  pray  you,  for  your  own 
sake,  to  embrace  your  own  safety,  and  give 
over  this  attempt. 

Ros.  Do,    young    sir ;    your    reputation    shall  200 
not  therefore  be  misprised:  we  will  make  it 
our  suit  to  the  Duke  that  the  wrestling 
might  not  go  forward. 

Orl.  I  beseech  you,  punish  me  not  vdth  your 
hard  thoughts;  wherein  I  confess  me  much 

truth  is,  only  one  of  the  ladies  calls  for  Orlando;  and  he  says  them, 
because  he  sees  two,  not  because  the  request  comes  from  them  both. — 
H.  N.  H. 

194.  "your  eyes;  our  judgment";  Coleridge  says, — "Surely  it  should 
be  'our  eyes'  and  'our  judgment'";  whereas  the  speaker's  design 
apparently  is,  to  compliment  Orlando;  the  reverse  of  which  would 
be  the  case  in  the  reading  proposed.  The  meaning,  therefore,  seems 
to  be,  that  his  own  eyes  and  judgment,  if  he  would  use  them  about 
himself,  would  give  him  better  counsel  than  he  is  following. — H.  N.  H. 

205.  This  wherein  is  not  a  little  in  the  way.  Some  have  under- 
stood it  as  referring  to  thoughts;  which  is  clearly  wrong.  The 
only  meaning  it  can  well  bear  is  that  of  since,  or  in  that.  We  are 
apt  to  think  that  the  printer's  eye  caught  the  wherein  just  below, 
and  thus  inserted  it  here  out  of  place.  To  our  mind  the  sense 
would  run  much  clearer,  should  we  leave  out  the  first  wherein,  put 

23 


Act  I.  Sc.  ii.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

guilty,  to  deny  so  fair  and  excellent  ladies 
any  thing.  But  let  your  fair  eyes  and  gen- 
tle wishes  go  with  me  to  my  trial:  wherein  if 
I  be  foiled,  there  is  but  one  shamed  that  was 
never  gracious ;  if  killed,  but  one  dead  that  210 
is  willing  to  be  so:  I  shall  do  my  friends 
no  wrong,  for  I  have  none  to  lament  me; 
the  world  no  injury,  for  in  it  I  have  nothing: 
only  in  the  world  I  fill  up  a  place,  which  may 
be  better  supplied  when  I  have  made  it 
empty. 

Ros.  The  little  strength  that  I  have,  I  would  it 
were  with  you. 

Cel.  And  mine,  to  eke  out  hers. 

Ros.  Fare  you  well:  pray  heaven  I  be  deceived 
in  you!  220 

Cel.  Your  heart's  desires  be  with  you ! 

Cha.  Come,  where  is  this  young  gallant  that  is 
so  desirous  to  lie  with  his  mother  earth? 

Orl.  Ready,  sir;  but  his  will  hath  in  it  a  more 
modest  working. 

Duke  F.  You  shall  try  but  one  fall. 

Cha.  No,  I  warrant  your  Grace,  you  shall  not 
entreat  him  to  a  second,  that  have  so  might- 
ily persuaded  him  from  a  first. 

Orl.  You  mean  to  mock  me  after ;  you  should  230 
not  have  mocked  me  before:  but  come  your 
ways. 

a  period   after   thoughts,  and  a   semicolon  after  aiiy   thin/j.     Never- 
theless, we  adhere  to  the  original. — H.  N.  H. 

230.  "You  mean";  Theobald  proposed  "An'  you  mean,"  and  the 
Cambridge  editors  suggested  that  "and"  for  "an'"  (:=zif)  may  be 
the  right  reading,  omitted  by  the  jiriiiter,  who  mistook  it  for  part 
of  the  stage-direction  "Orl.  and"  for  "Orland." — I.  G. 

24 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  I.  Sc.  ii. 

Eos.  Now  Hercules  be  thy  speed,  young  man! 
Cel.  I   would   I    were   invisible,   to   catch   the 

strong  fellow  by  the  leg  L^^i^y  "trestle. 

Ros.  O  excellent  young  man! 
Cel.  If  I  had  a  thunderbolt  in  mine  eye,  I  can 

tell  who  should  down. 

[Shout.     Charles  is  thrown. 
Duke  F.  No  more,  no  more. 
Orl.  Yes,  I  beseech  your  Grace :  I  am  not  yet  240 

well  breathed. 
Duke  F.  How  dost  thou,  Charles? 
Le  Beau.  He  cannot  speak,  my  lord. 
Duke  F.  Bear  him  away.     What  is  thy  name, 

young  man? 
Orl.  Orlando,  my  liege;  the  youngest  son  of 
/-      Sir  Rowland  de  Boys. 
Duke  F.  I  would  thou  hadst  been  son  to  some  man 
else : 

The  world  esteem'd  thy  father  honorable,      250 

But  I  did  find  him  still  mine  enemy : 

Thou  shouldst  have  better  pleased  me  with  this 
deed, 

Hadst  thou  descended  from  another  house. 

But  fair  thee  well ;  thou  art  a  gallant  youth : 

I  would  thou  hadst  told  me  of  another  father. 
-—  [Exeunt  Duke  Fred.,  train,  and  Le  Beau. 

Cel.  Were  I  my  father,  coz,  would  I  do  this? 

248.  "I  would  thou  hadst,"  etc.  In  Lodge,  on  the  contrary,  when 
Rosader  named  his  father,  "the  king  rose  from  his  seat  and  embraced 
him,  and  the  peers  entreated  him  with  all  favourable  courtesy." 
Shakespeare's  alteration  helps  to  explain  both  Orlando's  flight  to 
Arden,  and  Rosalind's  interest  in  him  as  the  son  of  her  father's 
friend.— C.  H.  H. 

25 


Act  I.  Sc.  ii.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

Orl.  I  am  more  proud  to  be  Sir  Rowland's  son, 
His  youngest  son;  and  would  not  change  that 

calling, 
To  be  adopted  heir  to  Frederick. 
Ros.  My  father  loved  Sir  Rowland  as  his  soul,  260 
And  all  the  world  was  of  my  father's  mind: 
Had  I  before  known  this  young  man  his  son, 
I  should  have  given  him  tears  unto  entreaties. 
Ere  he  should  thus  have  ventured. 
Cel.  Gentle  cousin, 

Let  us  go  thank  him  and  encourage  him: 
My  father's  rough  and  envious  disposition 
Sticks  me  at  heart.     Sir,  you  have  well  de- 
served : 
If  you  do  keep  your  promises  in  love 
But  justly,  as  you  have  exceeded  all  promise. 
Your  mistress  shall  be  happy.  271 

Ros.  Gentleman, 

[Giving  him  a  chain  from  her  neck. 
Wear  this  for  me,  one  out  of  suits  with  fortune. 
That  could  give  more,  but  that  her  hand  lacks. 

means. 
Shall  we  go,  coz? 
Cel.  Aye.     Fare  you  well,  fair  gentleman. 
Orl.  Can  I  not  say,  I  thank  you?  My  better  parts 
Are   all   thrown   down,    and   that   which   here 

stands  up 
Is  but  a  quintain,  a  mere  lifeless  block. 
Ros.  He  calls  us  back:  my  pride  fell  with  my 
fortunes ;  280 

I  '11  ask  him  what  he  would.     Did  you  call,  sir? 
Sir,  you  have  wrestled  well  and  overthrown 

26 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  I.  Sc.  ii. 

More  than  your  enemies. 
Cel.  Will  you  go,  coz? 

Ros.  Have  with  you.     Fare  you  well. 

[Ea^eunt  Rosalind  and  Celia. 
Orl.  What  passion  hangs  these  weights  upon  my 
tongue  ? 
I  cannot  speak  to  her,  yet  she  urged  confer- 
ence. 
O  poor  Orlando,  thou  art  overthrown! 
Or  Charles  or  something  weaker  masters  thee. 

Re-enter  Le  Beau. 

JLe  Beau.  Good  sir,  I  do  in  friendship  counsel  290 
you 
To  leave  this  place.     Albeit  you  have  deserved 
High  commendation,  true  applause,  and  love, 
Yet  such  is  now  the  Duke's  condition. 
That  he  misconstrues  all  that  you  have  done. 
The  Duke  is  humorous:  what  he  is,  indeed. 
More  suits  you  to  conceive  than  I  to  speak  of. 

Orl.  I  thank  you,  sir:  and,  pray  you,  tell  me  this; 
Which  of  the  two  was  daughter  of  the  Duke, 
That  here  was  at  the  wrestling? 

Le  Beau.  Neither  his  daughter,  if  we  judge  by 
manners ;  3'00 

But  yet,  indeed,  the  taller  is  his  daughter: 
The  other  is  daughter  to  the  banish'd  Duke, 
And  here  detain'd  by  her  usurping  uncle, 

301.  "the  taller";  but  Rosalind  is  later  on  described  as  "more  than 
common  tall,"  and  Celia  as  "the  woman  low,  and  browner  than  her 
brother":  probably  "taller"  is  a  slip  of  Shakespeare's  pen:  "shorter," 
"smaller,"  "lesser,"  "lower,"  have  been  variously  proposed;  of  these 
"lesser"  strikes  one  perhaps  as  most  Shakespearian.^ — I.  G. 

27 


Act  I.  Sc.  iii.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

To  keep  his  daughter  company;  whose  loves 
Are  dearer  than  the  natural  bond  of  sisters. 
But  I  can  tell  you  that  of  late  this  Duke 
Hath  ta'en  displeasure  'gainst  his  gentle  niece, 
Grounded  upon  no  other  argument 
But  that  the  people  praise  her  for  her  virtues, 
And  pity  her  for  her  good  father's  sake ;        310 
And,  on  my  life,  his  malice  'gainst  the  lady 
Will  suddenly  break  forth.     Sir,  fare  you  well : 
Hereafter,  in  a  better  world  than  this, 
I  shall  desire  more  love  and  knowledge  of  you. 
Orl.  I  rest  much  bounden  to  you :  fare  you  well. 

[Emt  Le  Beau. 
Thus  must  I  from  the  smoke  into  the  smother; 
From  tyrant  Duke  unto  a  tyrant  brother: 
But  heavenly  Rosalind!  [Ecdt. 


Scene  III 

A  room  in  the  palace. 
Enter  Celia  and  Rosalind. 

Cel.  Why,  cousin!  why,  Rosalind!  Cupid  have 

mercy!  not  a  word? 
Ros.  Not  one  to  throw  at  a  dog. 
Cel.  No,  thy  words  are  too  precious  to  be  cast 

away  upon  curs ;  throw  some  of  them  at  me ; 

come,  lame  me  with  reasons. 
Ros.  Then   there   were   two   cousins   laid   up; 

when  the  one  should  be  lamed  with  reasons 

and  the  other  mad  without  any. 

28 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  I.  Sc.  m. 

Cel.  But  is  all  this  for  your  father?  10 

Ros.  No,  some  of  it  is  for  my  child's  father. 
O,  how  full  of  briers  is  this  working-day 
world ! 

Cel.  They  are  but  burs,  cousin,  thrown  upon    u- 
thee  in  holiday  foolery :  if  we  walk  not  in  the 
trodden  paths,  our  very  petticoats  will  catch  \ 
them. 

Ros.  I  could  shake  them  off  my  coat:   these 
burs  are  in  my  heart. 

Cel.  Hem  them  away.  20 

Ros.  I  would  try,  if  I  could  cry  hem  and  have 
him. 

Cel.  Come,  come,  wrestle  with  thy  affections. 

Ros.  O,  they  take  the  part  of  a  better  wrestler 
than  myself! 

Cel.  O,  a  good  wish  upon  you!  you  will  try  in 
time,  in  despite  of  a  fall.  But,  turning 
these  jests  out  of  service,  let  us  talk  in  good 
earnest :  is  it  possible,  on  such  a  sudden,  you 
should  fall  into  so  strong  a  liking  with  old  30 
Sir  Rowland's  youngest  son? 

11.  "my  child's  father";  so  in  the  original.  Rowe  suggested  that 
it  should  be  "my  father's  child,"  and  that  reading  has  been  adopted 
in  several  editions.  Cole'ridge  says, — "Who  can  doubt  that  it  is  a 
mistake  for  'my  father's  child,'  meaning  herself?  A  most  indelicate 
anticipation  is  put  into  the  mouth  of  Rosalind  without  reason; — 
and  besides,  what  a  strange  thought,  and  how  out  of  place,  and  un- 
intelligible!" With  these  remarks  we  fully  agree,  yet  do  not  feel 
at  liberty  to  admit  the  change. — H.  N.  H. 

21.  "hem  and  have  him."  Rosalind  probably  said  ha'im  or  hae'm, 
this  colloquial  pronunciation  of  have  and  its  parts  being  occasionally 
used  by  Shakespeare  even  in  verse,  where  the  fuller  form  is  written. 
As  in  i  Hen.  IV,  iii.  1.:— 

Our  grandara  earth  having  this  distemperature. — C.  H.   H, 

29 


Act  I.  Sc.  iii.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

Ros.  The  Duke  my  father  loved  his   father 

dearly. 
Cel.  Doth  it  therefore  ensue  that  you  should 

love  his  son  dearly?     By  this  kind  of  chase, 

I  should  hate  him,  for  my  father  hated  his 

father  dearly;  yet  I  hate  not  Orlando. 
Ros.  No,  faith,  hate  him  not,  for  my  sake. 
Cel.  Why  should  I  not?  doth  he  not  deserve 

well?  40 

Ros.  Let  me  love  him  for  that,  and  do  you 

love  him  because  I  do.     Look,  here  comes 

the  Duke. 
Cel.  With  his  eyes  full  of  anger. 

Enter  Duke  Frederick j  with  Lords. 

Duke  F.  Mistress,  dispatch  you  with  your  safest 
haste 

And  get  you  from  our  court. 
Ros.  Me,  uncle? 

Duke  F.  You,  cousin: 

Within  these  ten  days  if  that  thou  be'st  found 

So  near  our  public  court  as  twenty  miles,        50 

Thou  diest  for  it. 
Ros,  I  do  beseech  your  Grace, 

36.  "hated  his  father  dearly";  Shakespeare's  use  of  dear  in  a 
double  sense  has  been  already  illustrated.  See  Twelfth  Night,  Act 
V.  sc.  1.— H.  N.  H. 

40.  "deserve  well";  Celia,  be  it  observed,  has  already  shown  that  she 
has  no  sympathy  with  her  father's  crime,  and  she  here  speaks 
ironically,  implying  the  severest  censure  upon  him;  her  meaning 
apparently  being, — "It  was  because  your  father  deserved  well  that 
my  father  hated  him;  and  ought  I  not,  on  your  principle  of  rea- 
soning, to  hate  Orlando  for  the  same  cause?" — H.  N.  H. 


30 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  i.  Sc.  m. 

Let  me  the  knowledge  of  my  fault  bear  with 

me: 
If  with  myself  I  hold  intelligence, 
Or  have  acquaintance  with  mine  own  desires ; 
If  that  I  do  not  dream,  or  be  not  frantic, — 
As  I  do  trust  I  am  not, — then,  dear  uncle, 
Never  so  much  as  in  a  thought  unborn 
Did  I  offend  your  Highness. 

Duke  F.  Thus  do  all  traitors : 

If  their  purgation  did  consist  in  words,  61 

They  are  as  innocent  as  grace  itself: 
Let  it  suffice  thee  that  I  trust  thee  not. 

Ros.  Yet  your  mistrust  cannot  make  me  a  traitor: 
Tell  me  whereon  the  likelihood  depends. 

Duke  F.  Thou  art  thy  father's  daughter;  there's 
enough. 

Ros.  So  was  I  when  your  Highness  took  his  duke- 
dom; 
So  was  I  when  your  Highness  banish'd  him : 
Treason  is  not  inherited,  my  lord;  ;, 

I  Or,  if  we  did  derive  it  from  our  friends,  70 

I  What 's  that  to  me  ?  my  father  was  no  traitor : 
[Then,    good    my    liege,    mistake    me    not    so 

much 
To  think  my  poverty  is  treacherous. 

Cel.  Dear  sovereign,  hear  me  speak. 

Duke  F,  Aye,  Celia;  we  stay'd  her  for  your  sake. 
Else  had  she  with  her  father  ranged  along. 

Cel.  I  did  not  then  entreat  to  have  her  stay ; 
It  was  your  pleasure  and  your  own  remorse : 
I  was  too  young  that  time  to  value  her ; 
But  now  I  know  her :  if  she  be  a  traitor,         80 

31 


Act  I.  Sc.  iii.  !^S  YOU  LIKE  IT 

Why  so  am  I ;  we  still  have  slept  together, 
Rose    at   an  instant,   learn'd,   play'd,   eat   to- 
gether, 
And  wheresoe'er  we  went,  Hke  Juno's  swans. 
Still  we  went  coupled  and  inseparable. 
Duke,  F,  She   is   too   subtle   for  thee;   and   her 
smoothness, 
Her  very  silence  and  her  patience 
Speak  to  the  people,  and  they  pity  her. 
Thou  art  a  fool :  she  robs  thee  of  thy  name ; 
And  thou  wilt  show  more   bright  and  seem 

more  virtuous 
When  she  is  gone.     Then  open  not  thy  lips :  90 
Firm  and  irrevocable  is  my  doom 
Which  I  have  pass'd  upon  her;  she  is  ban- 
ish'd. 
Cel.  Pronounce  that  sentence  then  on  me,  my  liege : 

I  cannot  Hve  out  of  her  company. 
Duke  F.  You   are  a  fool.     You,   niece,   provide 
yourself : 
If  you  outstay  the  time,  upon  mine  honor. 
And  in  the  greatness  of  my  word,  you  die. 

[Exeunt  Duke  Frederick  and  Lords. 
Cel.  O  my  poor  Rosalind,  whither  wilt  thou  go? 
Wilt  thou  change  fathers?     I  will  give  thee 

mine. 
I  charge  thee,  be  not  thou  more  grieved  than 
I  am.  100 

Ros.  I  have  more  cause. 

Cel.  Thou  hast  not,  cousin; 

Prithee,   be   cheerful:    know'st   thou   not,   the 
Duke 

32 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  i.  Sc.  m. 

Hath  banish'd  me,  his  daughter? 
Eos.  That  he  hath  not. 

Cel.  No,  hath  not  ?     Rosalind  lacks  then  the  love 

Which  teacheth  thee  that  thou  and  I  am  one : 

Shall   we   be    sunder'd?   shall   we   part,   sweet 
girl? 

No :  let  my  father  seek  another  heir. 

Therefore  devise  with  me  how  we  may  fly,  HO 

Whither  to  go  and  what  to  bear  with  us ; 

And  do  not  seek  to  take  your  change  upon 
you. 

To   bear   your    griefs   yourself   and  leave    me 
out; 

For,  by  this  heaven,  now  at  our  sorrows  pale, 

Say  what  thou  canst,  I  '11  go  along  with  thee. 
Ros.  Why,  whither  shall  we  go? 
Cel.  To  seek  my  uncle  in  the  forest  of  Arden. 
Ros.  Alas,  what  danger  will  it  be  to  us. 

Maids  as  we  are,  to  travel  forth  so  far ! 

Beauty  provoketh  thieves  sooner  than  gold.  12C 
Cel.  I  '11  put  myself  in  poor  and  mean  attire 

And  with  a  kind  of  umber  smirch  my  face ; 

The  like  do  you :  so  shall  we  pass  along 

And  never  stir  assailants. 
Ros.  Were  it  not  better. 

Because  that  I  am  more  than  common  tall, 

That  I  did  suit  me  all  points  like  a  man? 

A  gallant  curtle-axe  upon  my  thigh, 

A  boar-spear  in  my  hand ;  and — in  my  heart 

112.  "change,"  &c.,  Folio   1;  the  other  Folios  read  "charge,"  i.  e. 
^•burden,"  probably  the  true  reading. — I.  G. 

XVIII— 3  33 


Act  I.  Sc.  iii.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

Lie  there  what  hidden  woman's  fear  there 

will—  130 

We'll  have  a  swashing  and  a  martial  outside, 
As  many  other  mannish  cowards  have 
That  do  outface  it  with  their  semblances. 

Cel.  What  shall  I  call  thee  when  thou  art  a  man? 

Ros.  1  '11  have  no  worse  a  name  than  Jove's  own 
page; 
And  therefore  look  you  call  me  Ganymede. 
But  what  will  you  be  call'd? 

Cel.  Something  that  hath  a  reference  to  my  state: 
No  longer  Celia,  but  Aliena. 

Ros.  But,  cousin,  what  if  we  assay'd  to  steal      140 
The   clownish    fool   out    of   your   father's 

court  ? 
Would  he  not  be  a  comfort  to  our  travel? 

Cel.  He  '11  go  along  o'er  the  wide  world  with  me; 
Leave  me  alone  to  woo  him.     Let 's  away, 
And  get  our  jewels  and  our  wealth  together; 
Devise  the  fittest  time  and  safest  way 
To  hide  us  from  pursuit  that  will  be  made 
After  my  flight.     Now  go  we  in  content 
To  liberty  and  not  to  banishment.        [Exeunt. 

133.  "outface  it";  put  others  out  of  countenance. — C.  H.  H. 

139.  There  has  been  much  discussion  of  the  scansion  of  this  line; 
several  critics,  in  their  anxiety  to  save  Shakespeare  from  the  serious 
charge  of  using  a  false  quantity,  propose  to  accent  "Aliena"  on  the 
penultimate,  but  for  all  that  it  seems  most  likely  that  the  line  is  to 
be  read — 

"No  I6ng/er  CM/ya  Mt  /  Ali/ena."—l.  G. 


S4 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  ii.  Sc.  i. 


ACT  SECOND 
Scene  I 

The  Forest  of  Arden. 

Enter  Duke  senior ^  Amiens ^  and  two  or 
three  Lords,  like  foresters. 

DukeS.  Now,  my  co-mates  and  brothers  in  exile. 
Hath  not  old  custom  made  this  life  more  sweet 
Than  that  of  painted  pomp?     Are  not  these 

woods 
More  free  from  peril  than  the  envious  court? 
Here  feel  we  but  the  penalty  of  Adam, 
The  seasons'  difference;  as  the  icy  fang 
And  churlish  chiding  of  the  winter's  wind, 
Which,  when  it  bites  and  blows  upon  my  body, 
Even  till  I  shrink  with  cold,  I  smile  and  say 
'This  is  no  flattery:  these  are  counsellors  10 

That  feelingly  persuade  me  what  I  am.' 
Sweet  are  the  uses  of  adversity ; 

5.  "here  feel  we  but";  Theobald  first  conjectured  "but"  for  "not'' 
of  the  Folios,  and  his  emendation  has  been  accepted  by  many  scholars, 
though  violently  opposed  by  others.  Most  of  the  discussions  turn  on 
"the  penalty  of  Adam,"  which  ordinarily  suggests  toil — "in  the  sweat 
of  thy  brow  shalt  thou  eat  bread" — but  in  this  passage  Shakespeare 
makes  the  penalty  to  be  "the  seasons'  difi^erence,"  cp.  Paradise  Lost, 
X.  678,  9:— 

"Else  had  the  spring  Perpetual  smiled  on  earth  with  vernant  flowers." 
—1.  G. 

35 


Act  II.  Sc.  i.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

Which,  Hke  the  toad,  ugly  and  venomous, 
Wears  yet  a  precious  jewel  in  his  head: 
-^And  this  our  life  exempt  from  public  haunt 
Finds  tongues  in  trees,  books  in  the  running 
^  brooks. 

Sermons  in  stones  and  good  in  every  thing. 
I  would  not  change  it. 

Ami.  Happy  is  your  Grace, 

V,  /  That  can  translate  the  stubbornness  of  fortune 
'^  Into  so  quiet  and  so  sweet  a  style.  20 

Duke  S.  Come,  shall  we  go  and  kill  us  venison  ? 
And  yet  it  irks  me  the  poor  dappled  fools. 
Being  native  burghers  of  this  desert  city, 
Should  in  their  own  confines  with  forked  heads 
Have  their  round  haunches  gored. 

First  Lord.  Indeed,  my  Lord, 

The  melancholy  Jaques  grieves  at  that, 
And,  in  that  kind,  swears  you  do  more  usurp 

13-14.  "like  the  toad,  ugly  and  venomous"  &c.  A  favorite 
Euphuistic  conceit,  e.  g.  "The  foule  toade  hath  a  faire  stone  in  his 
head"  Euplnies,  p.  53  (ed.  Arber),  based  on  an  actual  belief  in  toad- 
stones.  The  origin  of  the  belief  is  traced  back  to  Pliny's  description 
of  a  stone  as  "of  the  colour  of  a  frog." — I.  G. 

14.  The  "preciovs  jewel"  in  the  toad's  head  was  not  his  bright 
eye,  as  is  sometimes  supposed,  but  one  of  the  "secret  wonders  of 
nature,"  which  exist  no  longer  "in  the  faith  of  reason."  Accord- 
ing to  Edward  Fenton,  it  was  found  in  the  heads  of  old,  and  large, 
and  especially  he  toads,  and  was  of  great  value  for  its  moral  and 
medicinal  virtues.  Of  course  so  precious  a  thing,  being  rather  hard 
to  find,  was  often  counterfeited,  and  there  was  an  infallible  test  for 
distinguishing  the  counterfeit  from  the  true:  "You  shall  know 
whether  the  toad-stone  be  the  right  and  perfect  stone  or  not.  Hold 
the  stone  before  a  toad,  so  that  he  may  see  it;  and  if  it  be  a  right 
and  true  stone  the  toad  will  leap  towards  it,  and  make  as  though  he 
would  snatch  it.  He  envieth  so  much  that  man  should  have  that 
stone."— H.  N.  H. 

36 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  ii   Sc.  i. 

Than  doth  your  brother  that  hath  banish'd  you. 
To-day  my  L(n-d  of  Aniiens  and  myself 
Did  steal  behind  him  as  he  lay  along  30 

Under  an  oak  whose  antique  root  peeps  out 
Upon  the  brook  that  brawls  along  this  wood : 
To  the  which  place  a  poor  sequester'd  stag. 
That  from  the  hunter's  aim  had  ta'en  a  hurt. 
Did  come  to  languish,  and  indeed,  my  lord. 
The  wretched  animal  heaved  forth  such  groans, 
That  their  discharge  did  stretch  his  leathern  coat 
Almost  to  bursting,  and  the  big  round  tears 
Coursed  one  another  down  his  innocent  nose 
In  piteous  chase ;  and  thus  the  hairy  fool,         40 
Much  marked  of  the  melancholy  Jaques, 
Stood   on   the   extremest   verge   of  the   swift 

brook. 
Augmenting  it  with  tears. 

Duke  S.  But  what  said  Jaques? 

Did  he  not  moralize  this  spectacle  ? 

First  Lord.  O,  yes,  into  a  thousand  similes. 

First,  for  his  weeping  into  the  needless  stream; 
'Poor  deer, 'quoth  he,  'thou  makest  a  testament 
As  worldings  do,  giving  thy  sum  of  more 

39.  "tears  coursed,"  etc.;  it  was  an  ancient  notion  that  a  deer, 
being  closely  pursued,  "fleeth  to  a  ryver  or  ponde,  and  roretli, 
cryeth,  and  wepeth,  wiien  he  is  take."  Drayton  in  the  thirteenth 
song  of  his  Pnly-Olbion  has  a  fine  description  of  a  deer-hunt,  which 
he  winds  up  with  an  allusion  to  the  same  matter: 

"He  who  the  mourner  is  to  his  own  dying  corse. 
Upon  the  ruthless  earth  his  precious  tears  lets  fall." 

And  in  a  note  upon  the  passage  he  adds, — "The  hart  weepeth  at 
his  dying:  his  tears  are  held  precious  in  medicine." — H.  N.  H. 

37 


Act  II.  Sc.  i.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT, 

To  that  which  had  too  much:'  then,  being  there 

alone, 
Left  and  abandon'd  of  his  velvet  friends;      50 
"Tis  right,'  quoth  he;  'thus  misery  doth  part 
The  flux  of  company:'  anon  a  careless  herd. 
Full  of  the  pasture,  jumps  along  by  him 
And  never  stays  to  greet  him;  'Aye,'  quoth 

Jaques, 
'Sweep  on,  you  fat  and  greasy  citizens; 
'Tis  just  the  fashion:  wherefore  do  you  look 
Upon  that  poor  and  broken  bankrupt  there?' 
Thus  most  invectively  he  pierceth  through 
The  body  of  the  country,  city,  court. 
Yea,  and  of  this  our  life ;  swearing  that  we    60 
Are  mere  usurpers,  tja'ants  and  what 's  worse, 
To  fright  the  animals  and  to  kill  them  up 
In  their  assign'd  and  native  dwelling-place. 

Puke  S.  And  did  you  leave  him  in  this  contem- 
plation? 

Sec.  Lord.  We  did,  my  lord,  weeping  and  com- 
menting 
Upon  the  sobbing  deer. 

Duke  S.  Show  me  the  place ! 

I  love  to  cope  him  in  these  sullen  fits. 
For  then  he  's  full  of  matter. 

First  Lord.  I  '11  bring  you  to  him  straight. 

[Exeunt. 

49.  "to  that  which  had  too  much";  so  in  3  Henry  VI,  Act  v.  sc.  4: 

"With  tearful  eyes  add  water  to  the  sea, 
And  give  more  strength  to  that  which  hath  too  much." — H.  N.  H. 

51.  "part";  sliut  out.— C.  H.  H. 

52.  "/lux";  flow.— C.  H.  H. 

38 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  ii.  Sc.  ii. 


Scene  II 

A  room  in  the  palace. 
Enter  Duke  Frederick,  with  Lords. 

Duke  F.  Can  it  be  possible  that  no  man  saw  them  ? 
It  cannot  be :  some  villains  of  my  court 
Are  of  consent  and  sufferance  in  this. 

First  Lord.  I  cannot  hear  of  any  that  did  see  her. 
The  ladies,  her  attendants  of  her  chamber, 
Saw  her  a-bed,  and  in  the  morning  early 
They    found    the    bed    untreasured    of    their 
mistress. 

Sec.  Lord.  My  lord,  the  roynish  clown,  at  whom  so 
oft 
Your  Grace  was  wont  to  laugh,  is  also  missing. 
Hisperia,  the  princess'  gentlewoman,  10 

Confesses  that  she  secretly  o'erheard 
Your    daughter    and   her   cousin   much    com- 
mend 
The  parts  and  graces  of  the  wrestler 
That  did  but  lately  foil  the  sinewy  Charles ; 
And  she  believes,  wherever  they  are  gone, 
That  youth  is  surely  in  their  company. 

Duke  F.  Send  to  his  brother;  fetch  that  gallant 
hither ; 
If  he  be  absent,  bring  his  brother  to  me ; 
I  '11  make  him  find  him :  do  this  suddenly, 

3.  "Are  of  consent  and  suferance  in  this";  have  connived  at  and 
permitted  it.     A  legal  phrase. — C.  H.  H. 

39 


Act  li.  Sb.  iii;  AS  VOU  LlKli  IT 

Aiid  let  not  sfearch  and  inquisition  quail  -t) 

To  bring  again  these  foolish  runaways. 

lEA'eunt. 


Scene  III 

Before  Oliver's  house. 

Enter  Orlando  and  Adam,  meeting, 

Orl  Who's  there? 

Adam.  What,  my  young  master?     O  my  gentle 

master ! 
O  my  sweet  master!     O  you  memory 
Of  old  Sir  Rowland !  why,  what  make  you  here  ? 
Why  are  you  virtuous?  why  do  people  love  you? 
And   wherefore    are    you    gentle,    strong    and 

valiant  ? 
Why  would  you  be  so  fond  to  overcome 
The  bonny  priser  of  the  humorous  Duke? 
Your  praise  is  come  too  swiftty  home  before 

you. 
Know  you  not,  master,  to  some  kind  of  men  lt> 
Their  graces  serve  them  but  as  enemies? 
No  more  do  yours :  your  virtues,  gentle  master. 
Are  sanctified  and  holy  traitors  to  you. 
O,  what  a  world  is  this,  when  what  is  comely 
Envenoms  him  that  bears  it! 

8.  "bonny";  big,  burly.— C.  H.  H. 

If.  "no  more  do  yours,"  a  somewhat  loose  construction,  but  one 
easily  understood,  the  force  of  the  previous  sentence  being  "to  some 
kind  of  men  their  graces  serve  them  not  as  friends." — I.  G. 

15.  "Envenoms";  acts  as  a  poison  upon  (not  "makes  poisonous"). — 
C.  H.  H. 

40 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  ii.  Sc.  m. 

Orl.  Why,  what's  the  matter? 

Adam.  O  unhappy  youth ! 

Come  not  within  these  doors ;  within  this  roof 
The  enemy  of  all  your  graces  lives : 
Your  brother — no,  no  brother;  yet  the  son — 
Yet  not  the  son,  I  will  not  call  him  son,  20 

Of  him  I  M'as  about  to  call  his  father, — 
Hath  heard  your  praises,   and  this  night   he 

means 
To  burn  the  lodging  where  you  use  to  lie 
And  you  within  it :  if  he  fail  of  that. 
He  will  have  other  means  to  cut  you  off. 
I  overheard  him  and  his  practices. 
This  is  no  place ;  this  house  is  but  a  butchery  : 
Abhor  it,  fear  it,  do  not  enter  it. 

Orl.  Why,  whither,  Adam,  wouldst  thou  have  me 
go? 

Adam.  No  matter  whither,  so  you  come  not  here.  30 

Orl.  What,  wouldst  thou  have  me  go  and  beg  my 
food  ? 
Or  with  a  base  and  boisterous  sword  enforce 
A  thievish  living  on  the  common  road? 
This  I  must  do,  or  know  not  what  to  do : 
Yet  this  I  will  not  do,  do  how  I  can ; 
I  rather  will  subject  me  to  the  malice 
Of  a  diverted  blood  and  bloody  brother. 

Adam.  But  do  not  so.     I  have  five  hundred  crowns. 
The  thrifty  hire  I  saved  under  your  father. 
Which  I  did  store  to  be  my  foster-nurse  40 

When  service  should  in  my  old  limbs  lie  lame. 
And  unregarded  age  in  corners  thrown: 
Take  that,  and  He  that  doth  the  ravens  feed, 
■hi 


Act  11.  Sc.  iii.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

Yea,  providently  caters  for  the  sparrow, 
Be  comfort  to  my  age!     Here  is  the  gold; 
All  this  I  give  you.     Let  me  be  your  servant : 
Though  I  look  old,  yet  I  am  strong  and  lusty ; 
For  in  my  youth  I  never  did  apply 
Hot  and  rebellious  liquors  in  my  blood, 
Nor  did  not  with  unbashful  forehead  woo"    50 
The  means  of  weakness  and  debility; 
Therefore  my  age  is  as  a  lusty  winter, 
Frosty,  but  kindly :  let  me  go  with  you ; 
I  '11  do  the  service  of  a  younger  man 
In  all  your  business  and  necessities. 

Orl.  O  good  old  man,  how  well  in  thee  appears 
The  constant  service  of  the  antique  world, 
When  service  sweat  for  duty,  not  for  meed! 
Thou  art  not  for  the  fashion  of  these  times. 
Where  none  will  sweat  but  for  promotion,      60 
And  having  that  do  choke  their  service  up 
Even  with  the  having :  it  is  not  so  with  thee. 
But,  poor  old  man,  thou  prunest  a  rotten  tree, 
That  cannot  so  much  as  a  blossom  yield 
In  lieu  of  all  thy  pains  and  husbandry. 
But  come  thy  ways ;  we  '11  go  along  together, 
And  ere  we  have  thy  youthful  wages  spent. 
We  '11  light  upon  some  settled  low  content. 

Adam.  Master,  go  on,  and  I  will  follow  thee. 
To  the  last  gasp,  with  truth  and  loyalty.  70 

From  seventeen  years  till  now  almost  fourscore 

50.  "unbashful";  immodest,  unchaste. — C.  H.  H. 
65.  "in  lieu  of";  in  return  for.^ — H.  N.  H. 
68.  "content";  contented  state. — C.  H.  H. 

71.  "seventeen";  Rowe's  emendation  for  "seaventie"  of  the  Folios. 
—I.  G. 

42 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  II.  Sc.  iv. 

Here  lived  I,  but  now  live  here  no  more. 
At  seventeen  years  many  their  fortunes  seek; 
But  at  fourscore  it  is  too  late  a  week : 
Y^t  fortune  cannot  recompense  me  better 
Than  to  die  well  and  not  my  master's  debtor. 

[Exeunt, 


Scene  IV 

The  Forest  of  Arden, 

Enter  Rosalind  for  Ganymede,  Celia  for 
Aliena,  and  Touchstone, 

Ros.  O  Jupiter,  how  weary  are  my  spirits  I 

Touch.  I  care  not  for  my  spirits,  if  my  legs 
were  not  weary. 

Ros.  I  could  find  in  my  heart  to  disgrace  my 
man's  apparel  and  to  cry  like  a  woman;  but 
I  must  comfort  the  weaker  vessel,  as  doublet 
and  hose  ought  to  show  itself  courageous  to 
petticoat:  therefore,  courage,  good  Aliena. 

Cel,  I  pray  you,  bear  with  me ;  I  cannot  go  no 
further.  10 

Touch.  For  my  part,  I  had  rather  bear  with 
you  than  bear  you:  yet  I  should  bear  no 
cross,  if  I  did  bear  you;  for  I  think  you 
have  no  money  in  your  purse. 

Ros.  Well,  this  is  the  forest  of  Arden. 

1.  "weary";  Theobald's  emendation  for  "merry"  of  the  Folios,  and 
generally  adopted;  some  scholars  are  in  favor  of  the  Folio  reading, 
and  put  it  down  to  Rosalind's  assumed  merriment;  her  subsequent 
confession  as  to  her  weariness  must  then  be  taken  as  an  aside. — I.  G. 

43 


Act  II.  Sc.  iv.  AS  YOU  LIKE  It 

Touch.  Aye,  now  am  I  in  Arden ;  the  more  fool 
I;  when  I  was  at  home,  I  was  in  a  better 
place:  but  travelers  must  be  content. 

Ros.  Aye,  be  so,  good  Touchstone. 

Enter  Corin  and  Silvius. 

Look  you,  who  comes  here ;  a  young  man         20 
and  an  old  in  solemn  talk. 

Cor.  That  is  the  way  to  piake  her  scorn  you  still. 

Sil.  O  Corin,  that  thou  knew'st  how  I  do  love 
her! 

Cor.  I  partly  guess ;  for  I  have  loved  ere  now. 

Sil.  No,  Corin,  being  old,  thou  canst  not  guess, 
Though  in  thy  youth  thou  wast  as  true  a  lover 
As  ever  sigh'd  upon  a  midnight  pillow : 
But  if  thy  love  were  ever  like  to  mine, — 
As  sure  I  think  did  never  man  love  so,  30 

How  many  actions  most  ridiculous 
Hast  thou  been  drawn  to  by  thy  fantasy  ? 

Cor.  Into  a  thousand  that  I  have  forgotten. 

Sil.  O,  thou  didst  then  ne'er  love  so  heartily! 
If  thou  remember'st  not  the  slighest  folly 
That  ever  love  did  make  thee  run  into, 
Thou  hast  not  loved: 
Or  if  thou  hast  not  sat  as  I  do  now. 
Wearing  thy  hearer  in  thy  mistress'  praise, 
Thou  hast  not  loved :  40 

Of  if  thou  hast  not  broke  from  company 
Abruptly,  as  my  passion  now  makes  me. 
Thou  hast  not  loved. 
O  Phebe,  Phebe,  Phebe!  [Exit. 

30.  "As";  though.— C.  H.  H. 

44) 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  ii.  Sc.  iv. 

Ros.  Alas,  poor  shepherd!  searching  of  thy 
wound,  I  have  by  hard  adventure  found 
mine  own. 

Touch.  And  I  mine.  I  remember,  when  I  was 
in  love  I  broke  my  sword  upon  a  stone  and 
bid  him  take  that  for  coming  a-night  to  Jane  50 
Smile  :V  and  I  remember  the  kissing  of  her 
batlet  and  the  cow's  dugs  that  her  pretty 
chopt  hands  had  milked:  and  I  remember 
the  wooing  of  a  peascod  instead  of  her; 
from  whom  I  took  two  cods  and,  giving  her 
them  again,  said  with  weeping  tears  'Wear 
these  for  my  sake.'  We  that  are  true  lovers 
run  into  strange  capers ;  but  as  all  is  mortal 
in  nature,  so  is  all  nature  in  love  mortal  in 
folly.  60 

Mos.  Thou  speakest  wiser  than  thou  art  ware 
of. 

Touch.  Nay,  I  shall  ne'er  be  ware  of  mine  own    , 
wit  till  I  break  my  shins  against  it. 

Ros.  Jove,  Jove!  this  shepherd's  passion 
Is  much  upon  my  fashion. 

Touch.  And  mine ;  but  it  grows  something  stale 
with  me. 

Cel.  I  pray  you,  one  of  j^ou  question  yond  man 
If  he  for  gold  will  give  us  any  food : 
I  faint  almost  to  death. 

45.  "searching" ;  probing. — C.   H.   H. 

55.  "from  whom,"  i.  e.  from  the  peascod;  similarly  "her"  in  the 
next  line:  he  was  wooing  the  peascod  instead  of  his  mistress. — I.  G. 

56.  "with  tceeping  tears";  tears  of  weeping,  a  tautological  phrase, 
used  seriously  by  Lodge  in  the  Rosalynd,  but  not  peculiar  to  him. — 
C.  H.  H. 

45 


Act  II.  Sc.  iv.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

Touch.  Holla,  you  clown!  '^0 

Bos.  Peace,  fool:  he's  not  thy  kinsman. 

Cor.  Who  calls? 

Touch.  Your  betters,  sir. 

Cor.  Else  are  they  very  wretched. 

Ros.  Peace,  I  say.     Good  even  to  you,  friend. 

Cor.  And  to  you,  gentle  sir,  and  to  you  all. 

Mos.  I  prithee,  shepherd,  if  that  love  or  gold 
Can  in  this  desert  place  buy  entertainment, 
Bring  us  where  we  may  rest  ourselves  and  feed : 
Here's  a  young  maid  with  travel  much  oppress'd 
And  faints  for  succor. 

Cor.  Fair  sir,  I  pity  her      81 

And  w^ish,  for  her  sake  more  than  for  mine  own, 
]My  fortunes  w^ere  more  able  to  relieve  her; 
But  I  am  shepherd  to  another  man 
And  do  not  shear  the  fleeces  that  I  graze : 
My  master  is  of  churlish  disposition 
And  little  recks  to  find  the  way  to  heaven 
By  doing  deeds  of  hospitality : 
Besides,  his  cote,  his  flocks  and  bounds  of  feed 
Ai'e  now  on  sale,  and  at  our  sheepcote  now,      90 
By  reason  of  his  absence,  there  is  nothing 
That  you  will  feed  on ;  but  what  is,  come  see. 
And  in  my  voice  most  welcome  shall  you  be. 

Hos.  What  is  he  that  shall  buy  his  flock  and  pas- 
ture ? 

Cor,  That  young  swain  that  you  saw  here  but  ere- 
while, 
That  little  cares  for  buying  any  thing. 

Bos.  I  pray  thee,  if  it  stand  with  honesty, 

83.  "fleeces";  flocks.— C.  H.  H. 

46 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  ii.  Sc.  v. 

Buy  thou  the  cottage,  pasture  and  the  flock, 
And  thou  shalt  have  to  pay  for  it  of  us. 

Cel.  And  we  will  mend  thy  wages.     I  like  this 
place,  100 

And  willingly  could  waste  my  time  in  it. 

Cor.  Assuredly  the  thing  is  to  be  sold: 
Go  with  me :  if  you  like  upon  report 
The  soil,  the  profit  and  this  kind  of  life, 
I  will  your  very  faithful  feeder  be 
And  buy  it  with  your  gold  right  suddenly. 

{Exeunt. 


Scene  V 

The  forest. 

Enter  Amiens ,  Jaques^  and  others. 

Song. 

Ami.  Under  the  greenwood  tree 

Who  loves  to  lie  with  me, 
And  turn  his  merry  note 
Unto  the  sweet  bird's  throat, 
Come  hither,  come  hither,  come  hither: 
Here  shall  he  see 
No  enemy 
But  winter  and  rough  weather. 

99.  "have  to  pay";  have  wherewith  to  pay. — C.  H.  H. 

101.  "waste";  spend.— C.  H.  H, 

3.  "turn,"  so  the  Folios:  Pope  substituted  "tune,"  but  the  change 
is  unnecessary;  according  to  Steevens  "to  turn  a  tune  or  note"  is 
still  a  current  phrase  among  vulgar  musicians. — I.  G. 

47 


Act  II.  Sc.  V.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

Jaq.  More,  more,  I  prithee,  more. 

Ami.  It  will  make  you  melancholy.  Monsieur   10 
Jaques. 

Jaq.  I  thank  it.  More,  I  prithee,  more.  I  can 
suck  melancholy  out  of  a  s(3ng,  as  a  weasel 
sucks  eggs.     INIore,  I  prithee,  more. 

Ami.  jNIy  voice  is  ragged:  I  know  I  cannot 
please  you. 

Jaq.  I  do  not  desire  you  to  please  me ;  I  do  de- 
sire you  to  sing.  Come,  more;  another 
stanzo :  call  you  'em  stanzos  ? 

Ami.  What  you  will.  Monsieur  Jaques.  "0 

Jaq.  Nay,  I  care  not  for  their  names ;  they  owe 
me  nothing.     Will  you  sing? 

Ami.  ]More  at  your  request  than  to  please  my- 
self. 

Jaq.  AVell  then,  if  ever  I  thank  any  man,  I  '11 
thank  you;  but  that  they  call  compliment  is 
like  the  encounter  of  two  dog-apes,  and 
when  a  man  thanks  me  heartily,  methinks  I 
have  given  him  a  penny  and  he  renders  me 
the  beggarly  thanks.  Come,  sing;  and  you  30 
that  will  not,  hold  your  tongues. 

Ami.  Well,  I  '11  end  the  song.     Sirs,  cover  the 

19.  "stanzo";  this  form  (as  well,  apparently,  as  stanze,  Love's 
Labor's  Lost,  iv.  2.  113)  was  in  occasional  use  for  the  still  exotic 
and  unfamiliar  stanza.- — C.  H.  H. 

21.  "owe  me  nothiiiff" ;  this  has  the  appearance  of  being  a  legal 
phrase,  and  Mr.  Caldecott  says  it  refers  to  the  words  nomina  facer c, 
in  the  Roman  law.  In  the  Pandects,  nomina  facere  means  to  enter 
an  account,  because  not  only  the  sums,  but  the  names  of  the  parties 
are  entered.  Cicero  uses  nomina  facere  for  to  lend  money,  and 
nomen  solvere  for  to  pay  a  debt;  and  in  Lii^y  we  have  nomen  tran- 
scribere  in  alium  for  to  transfer  a  debt  to  another. — H.  N.  H, 

48 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  ii.  Sc.  v. 

while;  the  Duke  will  drink  under  this  tree. 
He  hath  been  all  this  day  to  look  you. 
Jaq.  And  I  have  been  all  this  day  to  avoid  him. 
He  is  too  disputable  for  my  company:  I 
think  of  as  many  matters  as  he;  l)ut  I  give 
heaven  thanks,  and  make  no  boast  of  them. 
Come,  warble,  come. 

Song. 

Who  doth  ambition  shun,   \^All  together  here. 

And  loves  to  live  i'  the  sun,  41 

Seeking  the  food  he  eats. 

And  pleased  with  what  he  gets. 
Come  hither,  come  hither,  come  hither; 

Here  shall  he  see 

No  enemy 
But  vidnter  and  rough  weather. 

Jaq.  I  '11  give  you  a  verse  to  this  note,  that  I 

made  yesterday  in  despite  of  my  invention. 
Ami.  And  I  '11  sing  it. 
Jaq.  Thus  it  goes: — 

If  it  do  come  to  pass 
That  any  man  turn  ass, 
Leaving  his  wealth  and  ease 
A  stubborn  will  to  please, 
Ducdame,  ducdame,  ducdame: 
Here  shall  he  see 
Gross  fools  as  he, 
And  if  he  will  come  to  me. 

34.  "look";  look  for.— C.  H.  H. 
XVIII— 4  49 


Act  II.  Sc.  vi.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

^  mi.  What 's  that 'ducdame'?  60 

Jaq.  'Tis  a  Greek  invocation,  to  call  fools  into  a 
circle.  I  '11  go  sleep,  if  I  can ;  if  I  can- 
not, I  'U  rail  against  all  the  first-born  of 
Egypt. 
Ami.  And  I  '11  go  seek  the  Duke:  his  banquet 
is  prepared.  [Exeunt  severally. 


Scene  VI 

The  forest. 
Enter  Orlando  and  Adam. 

Adam.  Dear  master,  I  can  go  no  further;  O,  I 
die  for  food!  Here  lie  I  down,  and  measure 
out  my  grave.     Farewell,  kind  master. 

Orl.  Why,  how  now,  Adam!  no  greater  heart 
in  thee  ?  Live  a  little ;  comfort  a  little ;  cheer 
thyself  a  little.  If  this  uncouth  forest  yield 
anything  savage,  I  will  either  be  food  for  it 

63,  "I'll  rail  against  all  the  first-born  of  Egypt."  According  to 
Johnson  "the  first-born  of  Egypt"  was  a  proverbial  expression  for 
high-born  persons,  but  it  has  not  been  found  elsewhere.  Nares  sug- 
gests that  perhaps  Jaques  is  only  intended  to  say  that,  if  he  cannot 
sleep,  he  will,  like  other  discontented  persons,  rail  against  his  betters. 
There  is  no  doubt  some  subtler  meaning  in  the  words,  and  the  fol- 
lowing is  possibly  worthy  of  consideration: —  Jaques  says  if  he 
cannot  sleep  he'll  rail  again  all  first-borns,  for  it  is  the  question  of 
birthright  which  has  caused  him  "leave  his  wealth  and  ease,"  merely 
as  he  had  previously  put  it  "to  please  a  stubborn  will";  this  idea 
has  perhaps  suggested  Pharaoh's  stubbornness,  and  by  some  such 
association  "all  first-borns"  became  "all  the  first-born  of  Egypt"; 
or,  by  mere  association,  the  meaningless  tag  "of  Egypt"  is  added 
by  Jaques  to  round  oflF  the  phrase,  and  to  give  it  some  sort  of 
color. — I.  G. 

50 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  II.  Sc.  vii. 

or  bring  it  for  food  to  thee.  Thy  conceit  is 
nearer  death  than  thy  powers.  For  my 
sake  be  comfortable ;  hold  death  awhile  at  the  10 
arm's  end :  I  will  here  be  with  thee  presently ; 
and  if  I  bring  thee  not  something  to  eat,  I 
will  give  thee  leave  to  die:  but  if  thou  diest 
before  I  come,  thou  art  a  mocker  of  my 
labor.  Well  said!  thou  lookest  cheerly, 
and  I  '11  be  with  thee  quickly.  Yet  thou 
liest  in  the  bleak  air:  come,  I  will  bear  thee 
to  some  shelter;  and  thou  shalt  not  die  for 
lack  of  a  dinner,  if  there  live  any  thing  in  19 
this  desert.     Cheerly,  good  Adam !        [Exeunt. 


Scene  VII 

The  forest. 

A  table  set  out.     Enter  Duke  senior ^  Amiens,  and 
Lords  like  outlaws. 

Duke  S.  I  think  he  be  transform'd  into  a  beast; 

For  I  can  no  where  find  him  like  a  man. 
First  Lord.  My  lord,  he  is  but  even  now  gone 
hence : 
Here  was  he  merry,  hearing  of  a  song. 
Duke  S.  If  he,  compact  of  jars,  grow  musical, 
We  shall  have  shortly  discord  in  the  spheres. 
Go,  seek  him:  tell  him  I  would  speak  with 
him. 

10.  "comfortable" ;  of  good  cheer. — C.  H.  H. 

15.  "well  said";  a  phrase  of  the  time,  meaning  the  same  as  our 
well  done! — H.  N.  H. 

51 


Act  II.  Sc.  vii.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

Enter  Jaques. 

First  Lord.  He  saves  my  labor  by  his  own  approach. 
Duke  S.  Why,  how  now,  monsieur!  what  a  hfe  is 

this, 
That  your  poor  friends  must  woo  yourjcom- 

pany  ?  10 

What,  you  look  merrily! 
Jaq.  A  fool,  a  fool !     I  met  a  fool  i'  the  forest, 
A  motley  fool;  a  miserable  world! 
As  I  do  live  by  food,  I  met  a  fool ; 
Who  laid  him  down  and  bask'd  him  in  the  sun 
And  rail'd  on  Lady  Fortune  in  good  terms. 
In  good  set  terms,  and  yet  a  motley  fool. 
'Good  morrow,  fool,'  quoth  I.     'No  sir,'  quoth 

he, 
'Call   me  not   fool   till   heaven  hath   sent   me 

fortune:' 
And  then  he  drew  a  dial  from  his  poke,  20 

And,  looking  on  it  with  lack-luster  eye, 
Says  very  wisely,  'It  is  ten  o'clock:  ^ 

Thus  we  may  see,'  quoth  he,  'how  the  world 

wags: 
'Tis  but  an  hour  ago  since  it  was  nine ; 
And  after  one  hour  more  'twill  be  eleven; 
And  so,  from  hour  to  hour,  we  ripe  and  ripe, 
And   then,   from  hour   to  hour,   we   rot  and 

rot; 

19.  Touchstone  of  course  alludes  to  the  common  saying  "Fortune 
favours  fools,"  cp.  Every  Man  out  of  His  Humour,  I.  i.; 

Soffliardo.  "Why,  who  am  I,  sir? 
Macilenle.  One  of  those  that  fortune  favours. 
Carlo.  [Aside]  The  periphrasis  of  a  fool." — I.  G, 
52 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  il.  Sc.  vii. 

And    thereby    hangs    a    tale.'     When    I    did 

hear 
The  mdtley  fool  thus  moral  on  the  time, 
My  lungs  began  to  crow  like  chanticleer,  30 

That  fools  should  be  so  deep-contemplative ; 
And  I  did  laugh  sans  intermission 
An  hour  by  his  dial.     O  noble  fool ! 
A  worthy  fool !     Motley's  the  only  wear. 

Duke  S.  What  fool  is  this  ? 

Jaq.  O  worthy  fool!     One  that  hath  been  a  cour- 
tier. 
And  says,  if  ladies  be  but  young  and  fair. 
They   have  the   gift   to   know   it:   and  in  his 

brain, 
Which  is  as  dry  as  the  remainder  biscuit 
After   a   voyage,    he   hath   strange    places 

cramm'd  40 

With  observation,  the  which  he  vents 
In  mangled  forms.     O  that  I  were  a  fool! 
I  am  ambitious  for  a  motley  coat. 

Duke  S.  Thou  shalt  have  one. 

Jaq.  It  is  my  only  suit; 

Provided   that   you    weed    your   better    judg- 
ments 
Of  all  opinion  that  grows  rank  in  them 
That  I  am  wise.     I  must  have  liberty 
Withal,  as  large  a  charter  as  the  wind, 

34,  36.  "A  worthy  fool"  .  .  .  "O  worthy  fool":  the  "A"  and 
"O"  should  probably  change  places,  according  to  an  anonymous  con- 
jecture noted  in  the  Cambridge  Edition. — I.  G. 

39.  "dry" ;  slow,  dull.  In  Elizabethan  physiology  intellect  was  con- 
ceived as  a  kind  of  moisture  in  the  brain;  a  "dry  jest'  was  a  dull 
one.     A  trace  of  this  survives  in  our  "humour." — C.  H.  H. 

5S 


Act  II.  Sc.  vii.  AS  YOU  LIKE  It 

To  blow  on  whom  I  please;  for  so  fools 

have; 
And  they  that  are  most  gaUed  with  my 

folly,  50 

They  most  must  laugh.     And  why,  sir,  must 

they  so? 
The  'why'  is  plain  as  way  to  parish  church; 
He  that  a  fool  doth  very  wisely  hit 
Doth  very  foolishly,  although  he  smart. 
Not  to  seem  senseless  of  the  bob:  if  not, 
The  wise  man's  folly  is  anatomized 
Even  by  the  squandering  glances  of  the  fool. 
Invest  me  in  my  motley ;  give  me  leave 
To  speak  my  mind,  and  I  will  through  and 

through 
Cleanse  the  foul  body  of  the  infected  world,    60 
If  they  will  patiently  receive  my  medicine. 
Duke  S.  Fie  on  thee !     I  can  tell  what  thou  wouldst 

do. 
Jaq.  What,  for  a  counter,  would  I  do  but  good? 
Duke  S.  Most   mischievous   foul   sin,   in   chiding 

sin: 
For  thou  thyself  hast  been  a  libertine, 

55.  "Not  to  seem";  the  words  "not  to"  were  first  added  by  Theo- 
bald: the  Folios  read  "seem";  Collier,  following  his  MS.  corrections, 
proposed  "but  to  seem";  the  meaning  is  the  same  in  both  cases.  Mr. 
Furness  follows  Ingleby  in  maintaining  the  correctness  of  the  text, 
and  paraphrases  thus: — "He  who  is  hit  the  hardest  by  me  must  laugh 
the  hardest,  and  that  he  must  do  so  is  plain;  because  if  he  is  a  wise 
man  he  must  seem  foolishly  senseless  of  the  bob  by  laughing  it  off. 
Unless  he  does  this,  viz.,  shows  his  insensibility  by  laughing  it  off, 
any  chance  hit  of  the  fool  will  expose  every  nerve  and  fibre  of  his 
foUy."— I.  G. 

54 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  il.  Sc.  vii. 

As  sensual  as  the  brutish  sting  itself ; 

And  all  the  embossed  sores  and  headed  evils, 

That  thou  with  license  of  free   foot  has 

caught, 
Wouldst   thou    disgorge   into   the   general 

world. 
Jaq.  Why,  who  cries  out  on  pride,  "70 

That  can  therein  tax  any  private  party? 
Doth  it  not  flow  as  hugely  as  the  sea. 
Till  that  the  weary  very  means  do  ebb? 
What  woman  in  the  city  do  I  name. 
When  that  I  say  the  city-woman  bears 
The  cost  of  princes  on  unworthy  shoulders  ? 
Who  can  come  in  and  say  that  I  mean  her. 
When  such  a  one  as  she  such  is  her  neighbor? 
Or  what  is  he  of  basest  function. 
That  says  his  bravery  is  not  on  my  cost,  80 

Thinking  that  I  mean  him,  but  therein  suits 
His  folly  to  the  mettle  of  my  speech? 
There  then;  how  then?  what  then?     Let  me  see 

wherein 
My  tongue  hath  wrong'd  him:  if  it  do  him 

right, 

73.  "the  weary  very  means,"  the  reading  of  the  Folios  (Folios  1 
and  2,  "wearie" ;  Folios  3,  4,  "weary").  Pope  proposed  "very  very"; 
Collier  (MS.)  "the  very  means  of  wear";  Staunton,  "tceary-very,"  or 
"very-weary."  Others  maintain  the  correctness  of  the  original  read- 
ing, and  explain,  "until  that  its  very  means,  being  weary  or  ex- 
hausted, do  ebb."  A  very  plausible  emendation  was  suggested  by 
Singer,  viz.,  "wearer's"  for  "weary,"  and  it  has  rightly  been  adopted 
by  several  editors:  cp.  Henry  VIII,  I.  i.  83-5: — 

"O,  many 
Have  broke  their  backs  with  laying  manors  on  'em 
For  this  great  journey." — I.  G. 
55 


Act  II.  Sc.  vii.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

Then  he  hath  wrong'd  himself :  if  he  be  free, 
Why  then  my  taxing  hke  a  wild-goose  flies, 
Unclaim'd  of  any  man.     But  who  comes 
here? 

Enter  Orlando ^  with  his  sword  drawn. 

Orl.  Forbear,  and  eat  no  more. 

Jaq.  Why,  I  have  eat  none  yet. 

Orl,  Nor  shalt  not,  till  necessity  be  served. 

Jaq.  Of  what  kind  should  this  cock  come  of?        90 

Duke  S.  Art  thou  thus  bolden'd,  man,  by  thy  dis- 
tress? 
Or  else  a  rude  despiser  of  good  manners. 
That  in  civility  thou  seem'st  so  empty? 

Orl.  You  touch'd  my  vein  at  first:  the  thorny  point 
Of  bare  distress  hath  ta'en  from  me  the  show 
Of  smooth  civility:  yet  am  I  inland  bred 
And  know  some  nurture.     But  forbear;  I  say: 

87.  "Unclaimed  of  any  man";  Ben  Jonson's  Every  Man  out  of  His 
Humour  was  first  acted  in  1599,  and  probably  written  before  As 
You  Like  It.  The  character  of  Asper,  wherein  the  author  clearly 
personates  himself,  is  in  some  respects  quite  similar  to  that  of 
Jaques;  insomuch  that  a  writer  in  the  Pictorial  Shakespeare  thinks 
the  latter  to  have  been  meant  partly  as  a  satire  upon  the  former. 
Asper's  satire  is  perfectly  scorching,  his  avowed  purpose  being  to 
"strip  the  ragged  follies  of  the  time  naked  as  at  their  birth";  and 
the  Induction  has  some  lines  bearing  so  strong  a  resemblance  to  this 
speech  of  Jaques',  as  might  well  suggest  that  the  Poet  had  them 
in  his  mind: 

"If  any  here  chance  to  behold  himself. 
Let  him  not  dare  to  challenge  me  of  wrong; 
For,  if  he  shame  to  have  his  follies  known. 
First  he  should  shame  to  act  'em:  my  strict  hand 
Was  made  to  seize  on  vice,  and  with  a  gripe 
Squeeze  out  the  humour  of  such  spongy  souls 
As  lick  up  every  idle  vanity." — H.  N.  H. 
56 


It' 

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9|^^^99 

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l^j 

<m^»m:^:-  :v;?|*?;';^'S^;"'  ^ 

Orl.     "  Forbear,  and  eat  no  more  ! 
As  You  Like  It.     Act  2,  Scene  7. 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  ii.  Sc.  vii. 

He  dies  that  touches  any  of  this  fruit 
Till  I  and  my  affairs  are  answered.  9^ 

Jaq.  An  you  will  not  be  answered  with  reason,  I 

must  die. 
Duke  S.  What  would  you  have?    Your  gentle- 
ness shall  force, 
More  than  your  force  move  us  to  gentleness. 
Orl.  I  almost  die  for  food ;  and  let  me  have  it. 
DukeS.  Sit  down  and  feed,  and  welcome  to  our 

table. 
Orl.  Speak  you  so  gently?    Pardon  me,  I  pray 
you: 
I  thought  that  all  things  had  been  savage  here; 
And  therefore  put  I  on  the  countenance 
Of   stern   commandment.     But   whate'er   you 

are 
That  in  this  desert  inaccessible,  HO 

Under  the  shade  of  melancholy  boughs, 
Lose  and  neglect  the  creeping  hours  of  time ; 
If  ever  you  have  look'd  on  better  days, 
If  ever  been  where  bells  have  knoU'd  to 

church. 
If  ever  sat  at  any  good  man's  feast. 
If  ever  from  your  eyelids  wiped  a  tear 
And  know  what  'tis  to  pity  and  be  pitied, 
Let  gentleness  my  strong  enforcement  be :    118 
In  the  which  hope  I  blush,  and  hide  my 
sword.  119 

Duke  S.  True  is  it  that  we  have  seen  better  days, 
And  have  with  holy  bell  been  knoll'd  to 
church, 

57 


Act  II.  Sc.  vii.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

And  sat  at  good  men's  feasts,  and  wiped  our 

eyes 
Of  drops  that  sacred  pity  hath  engender'd: 
And  therefore  sit  you  down  in  gentleness 
And  take  upon  command  what  help  we  have 
That  to  your  wanting  may  be  minister'd. 

Orl.  Then  but  forbear  your  food  a  little  while, 
Whiles,  like  a  doe,  I  go  to  find  my  fawn 
And  give  it  food.     There  is  an  old  poor  man, 
Who  after  me  hath  many  a  weary  step         1^0 
Limp'd  in  pure  love:  till  he  be  first  sufficed, 
Oppress'd  with  two  weak  evils,  age   and 

hunger, 
I  will  not  touch  a  bit. 

Duke  S,  Go  find  him  out. 

And  we  will  nothing  waste  till  you  return. 

Orl.  I  thank  ye;  and  be  blest  for  your  good  com- 
fort! [Eirit. 

Duke  S.  Thou  seest  we  are  not  all  alone  unhappy : 
This  wide  and  universal  theater 
Presents  more  woeful  pageants  than  the  scene 
Wherein  we  play  in. 

Jaq.  All  the  world's  a  stage     139 

And  all  the  men  and  women  merely  players : 
They  have  their  exits  and  their  entrances; 
And  one  man  in  his  time  plays  many  parts, 

139.  "Wherein  we  play  in";  pleonasms  of  this  kind  were  by  no 
means  uncommon  in  the  writers  of  Shakespeare's  age.  Thus  Baret: 
"I  was  afearde  to  what  end  his  talke  would  come  to."  In  Corio- 
lanus,  Act  ii.  sc.  1:  "In  what  enormity  is  Marcius  poor  in?"  And 
in  Romeo  and  Juliet,  Act  i.  .Chorus:  "That  fair  for  which  love 
groan'd  for."  And  a  little  before  in  this  scene:  "Of  what  kind 
should  this  cock  come  of?" — H.  N.  H. 

58 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  ii.  Sc.  vii. 

His  acts  being  seven  ages.     At  first  the 

infant, 
Mewling  and  puking  in  the  nurse's  arms. 
Then  the  whining  school-boy,  with  his  satchel 
And  shining  morning  face,  creeping  like 

snail 
Unwillingly  to  school.     And  then  the  lover, 
Sighing  hke  furnace,  with  a  woeful  ballad 
Made  to  his  mistress'  eyebrow.     Then  a  sol- 
dier. 
Full  of  strange  oaths,  and  bearded  like  the 

Jealous  in  hohor,  sudden  and  quick  in  quar- 
rel, 

Seeking  the  bubble  reputation 

Even  in  the  cannon's  mouth  And  then  the 
justice, 

In  fair  round  belly  with  good  capon  lined, 

143.  "seven  ages";  in  the  old  play  of  Damon  and  Pythias  we  have, 
—"Pythagoras  said,  that  this  world  was  like  a  stage,  whereon  many 
play  their  parts."  In  The  Treasury  of  Ancient  and  Modern  Times, 
1613,  is  a  division  of  the  life  of  man  into  seven  ages,  said  to  be 
taken  from  Proclus:  and  it  appears  from  Browne's  Vulgar  Errors, 
that  Hippocrates  also  divided  man's  life  into  seven  degrees  or 
stages,  though  he  differs  from  Proclus  in  the  number  of  years 
allotted  to  each  stage.  Dr.  Henley  mentions  an  old  emblematical 
print,  entitled  The  Stage  of  Man's  Life  divided  into  Seven  Ages, 
from  which  he  thinks  Shakespeare  more  likely  to  have  taken  his 
hint  than  from  Hippocrates  or  Proclus;  but  he  does  not  tell  us 
that  this  print  was  of  Shakespeare's  age.  The  Poet  has  again 
referred  to  it  in  The  Merchant  of  Venice: 

"I  hold  the  world  but  as  the  world,  Gratiano, 
A  stage  where  every  man  must  play  his  part." — H.  N.  H. 

144.  "Mewling";  squalling.— C.  H.  H. 

148.  "ballad";  lyric  (in  general,  including  the  sonnet,  then  the 
fashionable  form  of  love-lay). — C.  H.  H. 

59 


Act  II.  Sc.  viL  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

With  eyes  severe  and  beard  of  formal  cut, 

Full  of  wise  sa^s^id  modern  instances ; 

And  so  he  plaj^s  his  part.     The  sixth  age  jshifts    j 

Into  the  lean  and  slipper'd  pantaloon,  ojajtrt/-^ 

With  spectacles  on  nose  and  pouch  on  side. 

His  youthful  hose,   well  saveS,   a  world  too 

wide  160 

For  his  shrunk  shank;  and  his  big  manly  voice, 
Turning  again  toward  childish  treble,  pipes 
And  whistles  in  his  sound.     Last  scene  of  all. 
That  ends  this  strange  eventful  history, 
Is  second  childishness  and  mere  oblivion. 
Sans  teeth,  sans  eyes,  sans  taste,  sans  every 

thing. 

Re-enter  Orlando  with  Adam. 

Duke  S.  Welcome.     Set    down    your    venerable 
burthen. 

And  let  him  feed. 
Orl.  I  thank  you  most  for  him. 
Adam.  So  had  you  need: 

I  scarce  can  speak  to  thank  you  for  myself.  170 
Duke  S.  Welcome;  fall  to:  I  will  not  trouble  you 

As  yet,  to  question  you  about  your  fortunes. 

Give  us  some  music ;  and,  good  cousin,  sing. 

Song. 

^mi.  Blow,  blow,  thou  winter  wind. 

Thou  art  not  so  unkind 
As  man's  ingratitude ; 

163.  "his";  its.— C.  H.  H. 
J6S.  "mere'i"  complete.— C.  H.  H. 

50 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  II.  Sc.  vii. 

Thy  tooth  is  not  so  keen, 
Because  thou  art  not  seen, 

Although  thy  breath  be  rude         179 
Heigh-ho !  sing,  heigh-ho !  unto  the  green  holly : 
Most  friendship  is  feigning,  most  loving  mere 
folly: 

Then  heigh-ho,  the  holly! 
This  life  is  most  jolly. 

Freeze,  freeze,  thou  bitter  sky. 
That  dost  not  bite  so  nigh 

As  benefits  forgot: 
Though  thou  the  waters  warp, 
Thy  sting  is  not  so  sharp 

As  friend  remember'd  not., 
Heigh-ho!  sing,  &c.  190 

Duke  S.  If  that  you  were  the  good  Sir  Rowland's 
son, 
As  you  have  whisper'd  faithfully  you  were, 
And  as  mine  eye  doth  his  effigies  witness 
Most  truly  limn'd  and  living  in  your  face, 
Be  truly  welcome  hither :  I  am  the  Duke 
That  loved  your  father :  the  residue  of  your  for- 
tune, 
Go  to  my  cave  and  tell  me.     Good  old  man, 

178,  "because  thou  art  not  seen"  i.  e.  "as  thou  art  an  enemy  that 
dost  not  brave  us  with  thy  presence"  (Johnson):  several  unnecessary 
emendations  have  been  proposed,  e.  g.  "Thou  causent  not  that  teen" 
(Hanmer);  "Beca'use  thoti  art  foreseen"  (Staunton),  &c. — I.  G. 

189.  "As  friend  remember'd  not,"  i.  e.  "as  forgotten  friendship," 
or  "as  what  an  unremembered  friend  feels":  cp.  "benefits  forgot" 
supra. — I.  G. 

61 


Act  II.  Sc.  vii.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

Thou  art  right  welcome  as  thy  master  is. 
Support    him    by    the    arm.     Give    me    your 

hand, 
And  let  me  all  your  fortunes  understand.      200 

[Exeunt. 


S2 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  ill.  Sc.  i. 


ACT  THIRD 

Scene  I 

A  room  in  the  palace. 
Enter  Duke  Frederick^  Lords,  and  Oliver. 

Duke  F.  Not  see  him  since?     Sir,  sir,  that  cannot 
be: 
But  were  I  not  the  better  j)art  made  mercy, 
I  should  not  seek  an  absent  argument 
Of  my  revenge,  thou  present.     But  look  to  it: 
Find  out  thy  brother,  wheresoe'er  he  is ; 
Seek  him  with  candle ;  bring  him  dead  or  living 
Within  this  twelvemonth,  or  turn  thou  no  more 
To  seek  a  living  in  our  territory. 
Thy  lands  and  all  things  that  thou  dost  call 

thine 
Worth  seizure  do  we  seize  into  our  hands,      10 
Till  thou  canst  quit  thee  by  thy  brother's  mouth 
Of  what  we  think  against  thee. 

Oli.  O  that  your  Highness  knew  my  heart  in  this! 
I  never  loved  my  brother  in  my  life. 

Duke  F.  More  villain  thou.     Well,  push  him  out 
of  doors ; 
And  let  my  officers  of  such  a  nature 

6.  "Seek  him  with  candle";  a  reference  to  the  parable  of  the  lost 
piece  of  .silver. — C.  H.  H. 

63 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

Make  an  extent  upon  his  house  and  lands: 
Do  this  expediently  and  turn  him  going. 

lEcceunt. 

Scene  II 

The  forest. 

Enter  Orlando,  with  a  paper. 

Orl.  Hang  there,  my  verse,  in  witness  of  my  love: 
And   thou,   thrice-crowned   queen   of  night, 
survey 
With  thy  chaste   eye,   from  thy  pale   sphere 
above, 
Thy  huntress'  name  that  my  full  life  doth 
sway. 
O  Rosalind!  these  trees  shall  be  my  books 
And  in  their  barks  my  thoughts  I  '11  char- 
acter ; 
That  every  eye  which  in  this  forest  looks 

Shall  see  thy  virtue  witness'd  every  where. 
Run,  run,  Orlando ;  carve  on  every  tree 
The  fair,  the  chaste  and  unexpressive  she.        10 

[Exit 

Enter  Corin  and  Touchstone, 

Cor.  And  how  like  you  this  shepherd's  life. 
Master  Touchstone? 

Touch.  Truly,  shepherd,  in  respect  of  itself,  it  is 
a  good  life;  but  in  respect  that  it  is  a  shep- 
herd's life,  it  is  naught.  In  respect  that  it  is 
solitary,  I  like  it  very  well;  but  in  respect 

64 


20 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  ill.  Sc.  ii. 

that  it  is  private,  it  is  a  very  vile  life.  Now, 
in  respect  it  is  in  the  fields,  it  pleaseth  me 
well ;  but  in  respect  it  is  not  in  the  court,  it  is 
tedious.  As  it  is  a  sj^are  life,  look  you,  it  fits 
my  humor  well;  but  as  there  is  no  more 
plenty  in  it,  it  goes  much  against  my  stom- 
ach.   Hast  any  philosophy  in  thee,  shepherd? 

Cor.  No  more  but  that  I  know  the  more  one 
sickens  the  worse  at  ease  he  is;  and  that  he 
that  wants  money,  means  and  content  is 
without  three  good  friends;  that  the  prop- 
erty of  rain  is  to  wet  and  fire  to  burn;  that 
good  pasture  makes  fat  sheep,  and  that  a 
great  cause  of  the  night  is  lack  of  the  sun;  30 
that  he  that  hath  learned  no  wit  by  nature 
nor  art  may  complain  of  good  breeding  or 
comes  of  a  very  dull  kindred. 

Touch.  Such  a  one  is  a  natural  philosopher. 
Wast  ever  in  court,  shepherd? 

Cor.  No,  truly. 

Touch.  Then  thou  art  damned. 

Cor.  Nay,  I  hope. 

Touch.  Truly,   thou  art  damned,   like  an  ill- 
roasted  egg  all  on  one  side.  40 

Cor.  For  not  being  at  court?     Your  reason. 

Touch.  Why,  if  thou  never  wast  at  court,  thou 
never  sawest  good  manners;  if  thou  never 

32.  "of  good  breeding";  of  the  want  of  good  breeding. — C.  H.  H. 
40.  "all  on  one  side" ;  merely  completes  the  description  of  the  ill- 
roasted  egg.  "Shakespeare's  similes,"  says  Malone,  "seldom  run  on 
four  feet."  "Similes  seldom  do,  and  Shakespeare  sometimes  exhibits 
vhe  inadequacy  of  an  image  by  the  vividness  with  which  he  sees  it" 
(J.  C.  Smith).— C.  H.  H. 

XVIII— 5  65 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

sawest  good  manners,  then  thy  manners 
must  be  wicked;  and  wickedness  is  sin,  and 
sin  is  danmation.  Thou  art  in  a  parlous 
state,  shepherd. 

Cor.  Not  a  whit,  Touchstone:  those  that  are 
good  manners  at  the  court  are  as  ridiculous  in 
the  country  as  the  behavior  of  the  country  50 
is  most  mockable  at  the  court.  You  told  me 
you  salute  not  at  the  court,  but  you  kiss  your 
hands:  that  courtesy  w^ould  be  uncleanly,  if 
courtiers  were  shepherds. 

Touch.  Instance,  briefly;  come,  instance. 

Cor.  Why,  we  are  still  handling  our  ewes,  and 
their  fells,  you  know,  are  greasy. 

Touch.  Why,    do    not    your    courtier's    hands 
sweat?  and  is  not  the  grease  of  a  mutton  as 
wholesome  as  the  sweat  of  a  man?     Shallow,    60 
shallow.     A  better  instance,  I  say ;  come. 

Cor.  Besides,  our  hands  are  hard. 

Touch.  Your  lips  will  feel  them  the  sooner. 
Shallow  again.  A  more  sounder  instance, 
come. 

Cor.  And  they  are  often  tarred  over  with  the 
surgery  of  our  sheep;  and  would  you  have 
us  kiss  tar?  The  courtier's  hands  are  per- 
fumed with  civet. 

Touch.  ]Most  shallow  man!  thou  worm's-meat,    70 
in  respect  of  a  good  piece  of  flesh  indeed! 
Learn  of  the  wise,  and  perpend :  civet  is  of 
a  baser  birth  than  tar,  the  very  uncleanly 
flux  of  a  cat.     Mend  the  instance,  shepherd. 

55.  "Instance" ;  give  your  reason. — C.  H.  H. 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  in.  Sc.  ii. 

Cor.  You  have  too  courtly  a  wit  for  me :  I  '11 
rest. 

Touch.  Wilt  thou  rest  damned?  God  help 
thee,  shallow  man!  God  make  incision  in 
thee!  thou  art  raw. 

Cor.  Sir,  I  am  a  true  laborer :  I  earn  that  I  eat,  80 
get  that  I  wear,  owe  no  man  hate,  envy  no 
man's  happiness,  glad  of  other  men's  good, 
content  with  my  harm  and  the  greatest  of 
my  pride  is  to  see  my  ewes  graze  and  my 
lambs  suck. 

Touch.  That  is  another  simple  sin  in  you,  to 
bring  the  ewes  and  the  rams  together  and  to 
offer  to  get  your  living  by  the  copulation 
of  cattle ;  to  be  bawd  to  a  bell-wether,  and  to 
betray  a  she-lamb  of  a  twelvemonth  to  a 
crooked-pated,  old,  cuckoldly  ram,  out  of 
all  reasonable  match.  If  thou  beest  not 
damned  for  this,  the  devil  himself  will  have 
no  shepherds;  I  cannot  see  else  how  thou 
shouldst  'scape. 

Cor.  Here  comes  young  JMaster  Ganymede, 
my  new  mistress's  brother. 

Enter  Rosalind,  with  a  paper,  reading. 

Ros.  From  the  east  to  western  Ind, 
No  jewel  is  like  Rosalind. 
Her  worth,  being  mounted  on  the  wind,      100 
Through  all  the  world  bears  Rosalind. 
All  the  pictures  fairest  lined 
Are  but  black  to  Rosalind. 

67 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

Let  no  face  be  kept  in  mind 
But  the  fair  of  Rosalind. 

Touch.  I  '11  rhyme  you  so  eight  years  together, 
dinners  and  suppers  and  sleeping-hours  ex- 
cepted: it  is  the  right  butter-women's  rank 
to  market. 

Ros.  Out,  fool!  110 

Touch.  For  a  taste : 

If  a  hart  do  lack  a  hind. 

Let  him  seek  out  Rosalind. 

If  the  cat  will  after  kind. 

So  be  sure  will  Rosalind. 

Winter  garments  must  be  lined. 

So  must  slender  Rosalind. 

They  that  reap  must  sheaf  and  bind; 

Then  to  cart  with  Rosalind. 

Sweetest  nut  hath  sourest  rind,  120 

Such  a  nut  is  Rosalind. 

He  that  sweetest  rose  will  find. 

Must  find  love's  prick  and  Rosalind. 

This  is  the  very  false  gallop  of  verses:  why 

do  you  infect  yourself  with  them? 
Ros.  Peace  you  dull  fool!  I  found  them  on  a 

tree. 
Touch.  Truly,  the  tree  yields  bad  fruit. 
It  OS.  I  '11  graff  it  with  you,  and  then  I  shall 

124.  "the  very  false  gallop,"  cp.  Nashe's  Four  Letters  Confuted, 
"I  would  trot  a  false  gallop  through  the  rest  of  his  ragged  verses, 
but  that  if  I  should  retort  his  rime  dogrell  aright,  I  must  make  my 
verses  (as  he  doth  his)  run  hobling  like  a  Brewer's  Cart  upon  the 
stones,  and  observe  no  length  in  their  feet." — I.  G. 

68 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  ill.  Sc.  ii. 

graff  it  with  a  medlar :  then  it  will  be  the  130 
earliest  fruit  i'  the  country;  for  you'll  be 
rotten  ere  you  be  half  ripe,  and  that's  the 
right  virtue  of  the  medlar. 
Touch.  You  have  said;  but  whether  wisely  or 
no,  let  the  forest  judge. 

Enter  Celia,  with  a  writing. 

Ros.  Peace! 

Here  comes  my  sister,  reading:  stand  aside. 
Cel.  [reads] 

Why  should  this  a  desert  be? 

For  it  is  unpeopled?     No; 
Tongues  I  '11  hang  on  every  tree,  140 

That  shall  civil  sayings  show: 
Some,  how  brief  the  life  of  man 

Runs  his  erring  pilgrimage. 
That  the  stretching  of  a  span 

Buckles  in  his  sum  of  age; 
Some  of  violated  vows 

'Twixt  the  souls  of  friend  and  friend: 
'But  upon  the  fairest  boughs, 

Or  at  every  sentence  end. 
Will  I  Rosalina  write,  150 

Teaching  all  that  read  to  know 

131.  "earliest  fruit  in  the  country";  upon  this  passage  Steevens 
remarks, — "Shakespeare  seems  to  have  had  little  knowledge  in 
gardening:  the  medlar  is  one  of  the  latest  fruits,  being  uneatable 
till  the  end  of  November."  True,  O  George!  and  Shakespeare  most 
manifestly  knew  it.  Do  not  the  words, — "Then  it  will  be  the  earliest 
fruit," — clearly  infer  that  it  is  not  so  now?  Moreover,  though  the 
latest  of  fruits  to  ripen,  is  it  not  one  of  the  earliest  to  rot?  and  does 
not  Rosalind  mean  that  when  the  tree  is  graffed  with  Touchstone,  its 
fruit  will  rot  earlier  than  ever? — H.  N.  H. 

69 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IX 

The  quintessence  of  every  sprite 

Heaven  would  in  little  show. 
Therefore  Heaven  Nature  charged 

That  one  body  should  be  fill'd 
iWith  all  graces  wide-enlarged: 

Nature  presently  distill'd 
Helen's  cheek,  but  not  her  heart, 

Cleopatra's  majesty, 
Atalanta's  better  part,  160 

Sad  Lucretia's  modesty. 
Thus  Rosalind  of  many  parts 

By  heavenly  synod  was  devised; 
Of  many  faces,  eyes  and  hearts. 

To  have  the  touches  dearest  prized. 
Heaven  would  that  she  these  gifts  should  have, 
And  I  to  live  and  die  her  slave. 

Ros.  O    most    gentle    pulpiter!    what    tedious 
homily  of  love  have  you  wearied  your  par- 
ishioners   withal,    and    never    cried    'Have  170 
patience,  good  people' ! 

Cel.  How  now!  back,  friends!  Shepherd,  go 
off  a  little.     Go  with  him,  sirrah. 

Touch.  Come,  shepherd,  let  us  make  an  honor- 
able retreat;  though  not  with  bag  and  bag- 
gage, yet  with  script  and  scrippage. 

[Ecveunt  Covin  and  Touchstone. 

Cel.  Didst  thou  hear  these  verses? 

Ros.  O,  yes,  I  heard  them  all,  and  more  too; 

153.  "in  little";  in  miniature. — C.  H.  H. 

156.  "wide-enlarged" ;  dispersed  through  the  world. — C.  H.  H. 
168.  "pulpiter";  Spedding's  suggestion  for  "Jupiter"  of  the  Folios. 
—I.  G. 

70 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  ill.  Sc.  ii. 

for  some  of  them  had  in  them  more  feet  than 
the  verses  would  bear.  180 

Cel.  That's  no  matter:  the  feet  might  bear  the 
verses. 

Ros.  Aye,  but  the  feet  were  lame  and  could 
not  bear  themselves  without  the  verse  and 
therefore  stood  lamely  in  the  verse. 

Cel.  But  didst  thou  hear  without  wondering 
how  thy  name  should  be  hanged  and  carved 
upon  these  trees? 

Ros.  I  was  seven  of  the  nine  days  out  of  the 
wonder  before  you  came ;  for  look  here  what  190 
I  found  on  a  palm  tree.    I  was  never  so  be- 
rhymed since  Pythagoras'  time,  that  I  was 
an  Irish  rat,  which  I  can  hardly  remember. 

Cel.  Trow  you  who  hath  done  this? 

Ros.  Is  it  a  man  ? 

Cel.  And  a  chain,  that  you  once  wore,  about 
his  neck.     Change  you  color? 

Ros.  I  prithee,  who? 

Cel.  O   Lord,   Lord!  it  is  a  hard  matter  for 
friends  to  meet;  but  mountains  may  be  re- 200 
moved  with  earthquakes  and  so  encounter. 

Ros.  Nay,  but  who  is  it? 

Cel.  Is  it  possible? 

179.  "some  of  them  had  in  them  more  feet,"  etc.  It  is  Rosalind's 
cue  to  be  captious;  but  her  criticism  may  be  explained  (though  not 
justified)  by  the  interchange  of  iambic  and  trochaic  rhythm. — 
C.  H.  H. 

201.  "and  so  encounter" ;  in  Holland's  translation  of  Pliny,  Shake- 
speare found  that  "two  hills  removed  by  an  earthquake  encountered 
together,  charging  as  it  were  and  with  violence  assaulHng  one  an- 
other, and  retyring  again  with  a  most  mighty  noise."— H.  N.  H. 

71 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

Ros.  Nay,  I  prithee  now  with  most  petitionary 
vehemence,  tell  me  who  it  is. 

Cel.  O  wonderful,  wonderful,  and  most  won- 
derful wonderful !  and  yet  again  wonderful, 
and  after  that,  out  of  all  hooping  1  »      •       ^ 

Ros.  Good  my  complexion!  dost  thou  think, ^ 
though  I  am  caparisoned  hke  a  man,  I  have  210 
a  doublet  and  hose  in  my  disposition?  One 
inch  of  delay  more  is  a  South-sea  of  discov- 
ery; I  prithee,  tell  me  who  is  it  quickly,  and 
speak  apace.  I  would  thou  couldst  stam- 
mer, that  thou  might'st  pour  this  concealed 
man  out  of  thy  mouth,  as  wine  comes  out  of 
a  narrow-mouthed  bottle,  either  too  much  at 
once,  or  none  at  all.  I  prithee,  take  the  cork 
out  of  thy  mouth  that  I  may  drink  thy 
tidings.  220 

Cel.  So  you  may  put  a  man  in  your  belly. 

Ros.  Is  he  of  God's  making?  What  manner 
of  man?  Is  his  head  worth  a  hat?  Or  his 
chin  worth  a  beard? 

Cel.  Nay,  he  hath  but  a  little  beard. 

Ros.  Why,  God  will  send  more,  if  the  man  will 
be  thankful:  let  me  stay  the  growth  of  his 
beard,  if  thou  delay  me  not  the  knowledge  of 
his  chin. 

Cel.  It  is  young  Orlando,  that  tripped  up  the  230 
wrestler's  heels  and  your  heart  both  in  an 
instant. 

Ros.  Nay,  but  the  devil  take  mocking:  speak 
sad  brow  and  true  maid. 

Cel.  T  faith,  coz,  'tis  he. 

72 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  ill.  Sc.  ii. 

Ros.  Orlando? 

Cel.  Orlando. 

Ros.  Alas  the  day!  what  shall  I  do  with  my 
doublet  and  hose  ?  What  did  he  when  thou 
sawest  him?  What  said  he?  How  looked  240 
he?  Wherein  went  he?  What  makes  he 
here?  Did  he  ask  for  me?  Where  remains 
he?  How  parted  he  with  thee?  and  when 
shalt  thou  see  him  again?  Answer  me  in 
one  word. 

Cel.  You  must  borrow  me  Gargantua's  mouth 
first :  'tis  a  w  ord  too  great  for  any  mouth  of 
this  age's  size.  To  say  aye  and  no  to  these 
particulars  is  more  than  to  answer  in  a  cate- 
chism. 250 

Ros.  But  doth  he  know  that  I  am  in  this  forest 
and  in  man's  apparel?  Looks  he  as  freshly 
as  he  did  the  day  he  wrestled? 

Cel.  It  is  as  easy  to  count  atomies  as  to  resolve 
the  propositions  of  a  lover;  but  take  a  taste 
of  my  finding  him,  and  relish  it  with  good 
obser^^ance.  I  found  him  under  a  tree,  like 
a  dropped  acorn. 

Ros.  It  may  well  be  called  Jove's  tree,  when 
it  drops  forth  such  fruit.  260 

Cel.  Give  me  audience,  good  madam. 

Ros.  Proceed. 

Cel.  There  lay  he,  stretched  along,  like  a 
wounded  knight. 

255.  "propositions" :  questions. — C.  H.   H. 

259.  "Jove's  tree";  the  oak  was  anciently  sacred  to  Zeus  or  Jupiter. 
— C.  H.  H. 

73 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

Ros.  Though  it  be  pity  to  see  such  a  sight,  it 

well  becomes  the  ground. 
Cel.  Cry   'holla'  to  thy  tongue,   I   prithee;  it 

curvets   unseasonably.     He   was    furnished 

like  a  hunter. 
Ros.  O,  ominous !  he  comes  to  kill  my  heart.       270 
Cel.  I  would  sing  my  song  without  a  burden: 

thou  br ingest  me  out  of  tune. 
Ros.  Do  you  not  know  I  am  a  woman  ?  when  I 

think,  I  must  speak.     Sweet,  say  on. 
Cel.  You  bring  me  out.     Soft!  comes  he  not 

here? 

Enter  Orlando  and  Jaques. 

Ros.  'Tis  he:  slink  by,  and  note  him. 

Jaq.  I  thank  j^ou  for  your  company ;  but,  good 
faith,  I  had  as  lief  have  been  myself  alone. 

Orl.  And  so  had  I ;  but  yet,  for  fashion  sake,  280 
I  thank  you  too  for  your  society. 

Jaq.  God  buy  you :  let's  meet  as  little  as  we  can. 

Orl.  I  do  desire  we  may  be  better  strangers. 

Jaq.  I  pray  you,  mar  no  more  trees  with  writ- 
ing love-songs  in  their  barks. 

Orl.  I  pray  you,  mar  no  more  of  my  verses  with 
reading  them  ill-f avoredly. 

Jaq.  Rosalind  is  your  love's  name? 

Orl.  Yes,  just.  290 

Jaq.  I  do  not  like  her  name. 

Orl.  There  was  no  thought  of  pleasing   you 
when  she  was  christened. 

370.  "to  kill  my  heart";  a   quibble  between   hart   and   heart,  then 
spelled  the  same. — H.  N.  H. 
275.  "bring  me  out";  put  me  out. — C.  H.  H. 

74 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  ill.  Sc.  ii. 

Jaq,  What  stature  is  she  of? 

Orl.  Just  as  high  as  my  heart. 

Jaq.  You  are  full  of  prett}^  answers.     Have 

you  not, been  acquainted  with  goldsmiths' 

wives,  and  conned  them  out  of  rings  ? 
Orl.  Not  so;  but  I  answer  you  right,  painted 

cloth,  from  whence  you  have  studied  your  300 

questions  ? 
Jaq.  You  have  a  nimble  wit :  I  think  'twas  made 

of  Atalanta's  heels.     Will  you  sit  down  with 

me,  and  we  two  will  rail  against  our  mistress 

the  world,  and  all  our  misery  ? 
Orl.  I  will  chide  no  breather  in  the  world  but 

myself,  against  whom  I  know  most  faults. 

Jaq.  The  worst  fault  you  have  is  to  be  in  love. 

Orl.  'Tis  a  fault  I  will  not  change  for  your 

-    best  virtue.     I  am  weary  of  you.  310 

Jaq.  By  my  troth.  I  was  seeking  for  a  fool 

when  I  found  you. 
Orl.  He  is  drowned  in  the  brook:  look  but  in, 

and  you  shall  see  him. 
Jaq.  There  I  shall  see  mine  own  figure. 
Orl.  Which   I   take  to  be  either  a  fool  or  a 

cipher. 
Jaq.  I  '11  tarry  no  longer  with  you :  farewell, 

good  Signior  Love. 
Orl.  I  am  glad  of  your  departure:  adieu,  good  3^20 

Monsieur  Melancholy.  [Exit  Jaques. 

Ros.   [Aside  to  Celia~\  I  w^ill  speak  to  him  like 

a  saucy  lackey,  and  under  that  habit  play 

298.  "out  of  rings";  i.  e.  out  of  the  mottoes  or  "posies"  of  rings. — 
C.  H.  H. 

75 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

the  knave  with  him.     Do  you  hear,  forester? 

Orl.  Very  well:  what  would  you? 

Ros.  I  pray  you,  what  is  't  o'clock? 

Orl.  You  should  ask  me  what  time  o'  day: 
there  's  no  clock  in  the  forest. 

Ros.  Then  there  is  no  true  lover  in  the  forest; 
else    sighing   every   minute    and    groaning  330 
every  hour  would  detect  the  lazy  foot  of 
Time  as  well  as  a  clock. 

Orl.  And  why  not  the  swift  foot  of  Time?  had 
not  that  been  as  proper  ? 

Ros.  By  no  means,  sir :  Time  travels  in  divers 
paces  with  divers  persons.  I  '11  tell  you  who 
Time  ambles  withal,  who  Time  trots  withal, 
who  Time  gallops  withal  and  who  he  stands 
still  withal. 

Orl.  I  prithee,  who  doth  he  trot  withal?  340 

Ros.  Marry,  he  trots  hard  with  a  young  maid 
between  the  contract  of  her  marriage  and 
the  day  it  is  solemnized:  if  the  interim  be 
but  a  se'nnight,  Time's  pace  is  so  hard  that  it 
seems  the  length  of  seven  year. 

Orl.  Who  ambles  Time  withal? 

Ros.  With  a  priest  that  lacks  Latin,  and  a  rich 
man  that  hath  not  the  gout;  for  the  one 
sleeps  easily  because  he  cannot  study,  and 
the  other  lives  merrily  because  he  feels  no  350 
pain;  the  one  lacking  the  burden  of  lean 
and  wasteful  learning,  the  other  knowing 
no  burden  of  heavy  tedious  penury:  these 
Time  ambles  withal. 

Orl.  Who  doth  he  gallop  withal? 

76 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  iii.  Sc.  ii. 

Ros,  With  a  thief  to  the  gallows;  for  though 
he  go  as  softly  as  foot  can  fall,  he  thinks 
himself  too  soon  there. 

Orl,  Who  stays  it  still  withal? 

Ros.  With  lawyers  in  the  vacation ;  for  they  360 
sleep  between  term  and  term  and  then  they 
perceive  not  how  Time  moves. 

Orl.  Where  dwell  you,  pretty  youth? 

Ros.  With  this  shepherdess,  my  sister:  here  in 
the  skirts  of  the  forest,  like  fringe  upon  a 
petticoat. 

Orl.  Are  you  native  of  this  place? 

Ros.  As  the  cony  that  you  see  dwell  where  she 
is  kindled. 

Orl.  Your  accent  is  something  finer  than  you  370 
could  purchase  in  so  removed  a  dwelling. 

Ros.  I  have  been  told  so  of  many:  but  indeed 
an  old  religious  uncle  of  mine  taught  me  to 
speak,  who  was  in  his  youth  an  inland  man; 
one  that  knew  courtship  too  well,  for  there 
he  fell  in  love.  I  have  heard  him  read  many 
lectures  against  it,  and  I  thank  God  I  am 
not  a  woman,  to  be  touched  with  so  many 
giddy  offenses  as  he  hath  generally  taxed 
their  whole  sex  withal.  380 

Orl.  Can  you  remember  any  of  the  principal 
evils  that  he  laid  to  the  charge  of  women? 

Ros.  There  were  none  principal;  they  were  all 
like  one  another  as  half -pence  are,  every  one 
fault  seeming  monstrous  till  his  fellow-fault 
came  to  match  it. 

374.  "inland  vian";  that  is,  civilized.     See  Act  ii.  sc.  7. — H.  N.  H. 

77 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.  IA.S  ^YOU  LIKE  IT 

Orl.  1  prithee,  recount  some  of  them. 

■Ros.  No,  I  will  not  cast  away  my  physic  but  on 
those  that  are  sick.  There  is  a  man  haunts 
the  forest,  that  abuses  our  young  plants  390 
with  carving  Rosalind  on  their  barks ;  hangs 
odes  upon  hawthorns  and  elegies  on  bram- 
bles; all,  forsooth,  deifying  the  name  of 
Rosalind:  if  I  could  meet  that  fancy- 
monger,  I  would  give  him  some  good 
counsel,  for  he  seems  to  have  the  quotidian 
of  love  upon  him. 

Orl.  1  am  he  that  is  so  love-shaked:  I  pray  you, 
tell  me  your  remedy. 

Ros.  There  is  none  of  my  uncle's  marks  upon  400 
you:  he  taught  me  how  to  know  a  man  in 
love ;  in  which  cage  of  rushes  I  am  sure  you 
are -not  prisoner. 

Orl.  What  were  his  marks? 

Ros.  A  lean  cheek,  which  you  have  not;  a  blue 
eye  and  sunken,  which  you  have  not;  an 
unquestionable  spirit,  which  you  have  not ;  a 
beard  neglected,  which  you  have  not;  but  I 
pardon  you  for  that,  for  simply  your  having 
in  beard  is  a  younger  brother's  revenue :  then  410 
your  hose  should  be  ungartered,  your  bonnet 
unhanded,  your  sleeve  unbuttoned,  your 
shoe  untied  and  every  thing  about  you  dem- 
onstrating a  careless  desolation ;  but  you  are 
no  such  man ;  you  are  rather  point-device  in 

405.  "a  blue  eye";  that  is,  a  blueness  about  the  eyes,  an  evidence 
of  anxiety  and  dejection. — H.  N.  H. 

78 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  in.  Sc.  ii. 

your  accouterments,  as  loving  yourself  than 
seeming  the  lover  of  any  other. 

Orl.  Fair  youth,  I  would  I  could  make  thee  be- 
lieve I  love. 

Ros.  Me  believe  it !  you  may  as  soon  make  her  420 
that  you  love  beheve  it;  which,  I  warrant,] 
she  is  apter  to  do  than  to  confess  she  does: 
that  is  one  of  the  points  in  the  which  women! 
still  give  the  lie  to  their  consciences.  But, 
in  good  sooth,  are  you  he  that  hangs  the 
verses  on  the  trees,  wherein  RosaHnd  is  so 
admired? 

Orl,  I  swear  to  thee,  youth,  by  the  white  hand 
of  Rosalind,  I  am  that  he,  that  unfortunate 
he.  430 

'Ros,  But  are  you  so  much  in  love  as  your 
rhymes  speak? 

Orl.  Neither  rhyme  nor  reason  can  express  how 
much. 

Ros.  Love  is  merely  a  madness ;  and,  I  tell  you, 
deserves  as  well  a  dark  house  and  a  whip  as 
madmen  do:  and  the  reason  why  they  are 
not  so  punished  and  cured  is,  that  the  lunacy 
is  so  ordinary  that  the  whippers  are  in  love 
too.     Yet  I  profess  curing  it  by  counsel.        440 

Orl.  Did  you  ever  cure  any  so? 

Ros.  Yes,  one,  and  in  this  manner.  He  was  to 
imagine  me  his  love,  his  mistress;  and  I  set 
him  every  day  to  woo  me:  at  which  time 
would  I,  being  but  a  moonish  youth,  grieve, 
be  effeminate,  changeable,  longing  and  lik- 
ing; proud,  fantastical,  apish,  shallow,  in- 
79 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

constant,  full  of  tears,  full  of  smiles;  for 
every  passion  something  and  for  no  passion 
truly  any  thing,  as  boys  and  M^omen  are  for  450 
tlie  most  part  cattle  of  this  color :  would  now 
like  him,  now  loathe  him;  then  entertain 
him,  then  forswear  him ;  now  weep  for  him, 
then  spit  at  him;  that  I  drave  my  suitor 
from  his  mad  humor  of  love  to  a  living 
humor  of  madness;  which  was,  to  forswear 
the  full  stream  of  the  world  and  to  live  in  a 
nook  merely  monastic.  And  thus  I  cured 
him;  and  this  way  will  I  take  upon  me  to 
wash  your  liver  as  clean  as  a  sound  sheep's  460 
heart,  that  there  shall  not  be  one  spot  of 
love  in  't. 

Orl.  I  would  not  be  cured,  youth. 

Ros.  I  would  cure  you,  if  you  would  but  call 
me  Rosalind  and  come  every  day  to  my  cote 
and  woo  me. 

Orl.  Now,  by  the  faith  of  my  love,  I  will:  tell 
me  where  it  is. 

Ros.  Go  with  me  to  it  and  I  '11  show  it  you: 
and  by  the  way  you  shall  tell  me  where  in  470 
the   forest  you  live.     Will  you  go? 

Orl.  With  all  my  heart,  good  youth. 

Bos.  Nay,  you  must  call  me  Rosalind.  Come, 
sister,  will  you  go?  [Exeunt. 

455.  "living,"  i.  e.  lasting,  permanent;  the  antithesis  seems  to  re- 
quire "loving,"  which  has  been  substituted  by  some  editors:  it  is 
noteworthy  that  in  some  half-dozen  instances  in  Shakespeare  "live" 
has  been  printed  for  "love,"  but  it  is  questionable  whether  any 
change  is  justifiable  here. — I.  G. 


80 


!AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  iii.  Sc.  Hi 


Scene  III 

The  forest. 
Enter  Touchstone  and  Audrey;  Jaques  behind. 

Touch.  Come  apace,  good  Audrey :  I  will  fetch 
up  your  goats,  Audrey.  And  how,  Aud- 
rey? am  I  the  man  yet?  doth  my  simple 
feature  content  you? 

Aud.  Your  features!  Lord  warrant  us  I  what 
features  ? 

Touch.  I  am  here  with  thee  and  thy  goats,  as 
the  most  capricious  poet,  honest  Ovid,  was 
among  the  Goths. 

Jaq.  [Aside~\  O  knowledge  ill-inhabited,  worse    10 
than  Jove  in  a  thatched  house! 

Touch.  When  a  man's  verses  cannot  be  under- 
stood, nor  a  man's  good  wit  seconded  with 
the  forward  child,  understanding,  it  strikes 
a  man  more  dead  than  a  great  reckoning  in 
a  little  room.  Truly,  I  would  the  gods  had 
made  thee  poetical. 

Aud.  I  do  not  know  what  'poetical'  is:  is  it 
honest  in  deed  and  word?  is  it  a  true  thing? 

Touch.  No,  truly;  for  the  truest  poetry  is  the 
most   feigning;    and   lovers    are    given   to 


20 


1.  "Audrey"  is  a  corruption  of  Etheldreda.  The  saint  of  that  name 
is  so  styled  in  ancient  calendars. — H.  N.  H. 

5,  6.  "your  features!  .  .  .  what  features?"  Farmer's  conjec- 
ture, "feature!  .  .  .  what's  feature"  seems  singularly  plausible; 
cp.  1.  18,  "I  do  not  know  what  'poetical'  is." — I.  G. 

10.  "ill-inhabited";  ill-lodged.— C.  H.  H. 
XVIII— 6  81 


30 


Act  III.  Sc.  iii.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

poetry,  and  what  they  swear  in  poetry  may 
be  said  as  lovers  they  do  feign. 

Aud.  Do  you  wish  then  that  the  gods  had  made 
me  poetical? 

Touch.  I  do,  truly;  for  thou  swearest  to  me 
thou  art  honest ;  now,  if  thou  wert  a  poet,  I 
might  have  some  hope  thou  didst  feign. 

Aud.  Would  you  not  have  me  honest? 

Touch.  No,  truly,  unless  thou  wert  hard-fav 
ored;  for  honesty  coupled  to  beauty  is  to 
have  honey  a  sauce  to  sugar. 

Jaq.   [Asideli  A  material  fool! 

Aud.  Well,  I  am  not  fair;  and  therefore  I  pray 
the  gods  make  me  honest. 

Touch.  'Truly,  and  to  cast  away  honesty  upon 
a  foul  slut  were  to  put  good  meat  into  an 
unclean  dish. 

Aud.  I  am  not  a  slut,  though  I  thank  the  gods 
I  am  foul.  40 

Touch.  Well,  praised  be  the  gods  for  thy  foul- 
ness! sluttishness  may  come  hereafter.  But 
be  it  as  it  may  be,  I  will  marry  thee,  and 
to  that  end  I  have  been  with  Sir  Oliver 
Martext  the  vicar  of  the  next  village,  who 
hath  promised  to  meet  me  in  this  place  of 
the  forest  and  to  couple  us. 

Jaq.  [^Aside~\  I  would  fain  see  this  meeting. 

33.  A  "material  fool"  is  a  fool  with  matter  in  him. — H.  N.  H. 

40.  "I  am  foul";  honest  Audrey  uses  foul  as  opposed  to  fair; 
that  is,  for  plain,  homely.  She  had  good  authority  for  doing  so. 
Thus,  in  Thomas'  History  of  Italy:  "If  the  maiden  be  fair,  she  is 
soon  had,  and  little  money  given  with  her;  if  she  be  foul,  they 
advance  her  with  a  better  portion." — H.  N.  H. 

82 


60 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  III.  Sc.  iii. 

Aud.  Well,  the  gods  give  us  joy! 

Touch.  Amen.  A  man  may,  if  he  were  of  a  50 
fearful  heart,  stagger  in  this  attempt;  for 
here  we  have  no  temple  but  the  wood, 
no  assembly  but  horn-beasts.  But  what 
though?  Courage!  As  horns  are  odious, 
they  are  necessary.  It  is  said,  'many  a  man 
knows  no  end  of  his  goods:'  right;  many  a 
man  has  good  horns,  and  knows  no  end  of 
them.  Well,  that  is  the  dowry  of  his  wife; 
'tis  none  of  his  own  getting.  Horns  ? — even 
so: — poor  men  alone?  No,  no;  the  noblest 
deer  hath  them  as  huge  as  the  rascal.  Is 
the  single  man  therefore  blessed?  No:  as 
a  walled  town  is  more  worthier  than  a  vil- 
lage, so  is  the  forehead  of  a  married  man 
more  honorable  than  the  bare  brow  of  a 
bachelor ;  and  by  how  much  defense  is  better 
than  no  skill,  by  so  much  is  a  horn  more  pre- 
cious than  to  want.  Here  comes  Sir  Oli- 
ver. 

Enter  Sir  Oliver  Martext. 

Sir  Oliver  Martext,  you  are  well  met:  will    '^0 
you  dispatch  us  here  under  this  tree,  or  shall 
we  go  with  you  to  your  chapel? 

Sir.  Oil.  Is  there  none  here  to  give  the  woman  ? 

Touch.  I  will  not  take  her  on  gift  of  any  man. 

Sir  on.  Truly,  she  must  be  given,  or  the  mar- 
riage is  not  lawful. 

Jaq.  Proceed,  proceed :  I  '11  give  her. 

Touch,  Good    even,    good    Master    What-ye- 

83 


Act  III.  Sc.  iii.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

call't:  how  do  you,  sir?     You  are  very  well 
met :     God  'ild  you  for  your  last  company :    80 
I  am  very  glad  to  see  you:  even  a  toy  in 
hand  here,  sir:  nay,  pray  be  covered. 

Jaq.  Will  you  be  married,  motley? 

Touch.  As  the  ox  hath  his  bow,  sir,  the  horse  his 
curb  and  the  falcon  her  bells,  so  man  hath 
his  desires;  and  as  pigeons  bill,  so  wedlock 
would  be  nibbling. 

Jaq.  And  will  you,  being  a  man  of  your  breed- 
ing, be  married  under  a  bush  like  a  beggar? 
Get  you  to  church,  and  have  a  good  priest    90 
^     ,     that  can  tell  you  what  marriage  is :  this  f el- 
r      jt'     low  will  but  join  you  together  as  they  join 
TjT  wainscot;  then  one  of  you  prove  a  shrunk 

panel,  and  like  green  timber  warp,  warp. 

Touch.  [Aside']  I  am  not  in  the  mind  but  I 
were  better  to  be  married  of  him  than  of 
another :  for  he  is  not  like  to  marry  me  well ; 
and  not  being  well  married,  it  will  be  a  good 
excuse  for  me  hereafter  to  leave  my  wife. 

Jaq.  Go  thou  with  me,  and  let  me  counsel  thee.  100 

Touch.  Come,  sweet  Audrey: 

We  must  be  married,  or  we  must  live  in  bawdry. 
Farewell,  good  JNIaster  Oliver:  not, — 

O  sweet  Oliver, 
O  brave  Oliver, 
Leave  me  not  behind  thee: 

but, — 

8j.  "her,"  so  Folios  1,  3:  "his,"  Folios  3,  4:  the  female  bird  was 
the  falcon;  the  male  was  called  "tercel"  or  "tassel." — I.  G. 

8i 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  in.  Sc  iv. 

Wind  away. 
Begone,  I  say, 
I  will  not  to  wedding  with  thee.        HO 

[Exeunt  Jaques,  Touchstone,  and  Audrey. 
Sir   OIL  'Tis   no  matter:   ne'er   a    fantastical 
knave  of  them  all  shall  flout  me  out  of  my 
calling.  lEarit. 


Scene  IV 

The  forest. 
Enter  Rosalind  and  Celia. 

Ros.  Never  talk  to  me;  I  will  weep. 

Cel.  Do,  I  prithee;  but  yet  have  the  grace  to 
consider  that  tears  do  not  become  a  man. 

Ros.  But  have  I  not  cause  to  weep? 

Cel,  As  good  cause  as  one  would  desire;  there- 
fore weep. 

Ros.  His  very  hair  is  of  the  dissembling  color. 

Cel.  Something  browner  than  Judas's:  marry, 
his  kisses  are  Judas's  own  children. 

Ros.  T  faith,  his  hair  is  of  a  good  color.  10 

Cel.  An  excellent  color :  your  chestnut  was  ever 
the  only  color. 

Ros.  And  his  kissing  is  as  full  of  sanctity  as 
the  touch  of  holy  bread. 

Cel.  He  hath  bought  a  pair  of  cast  lips  of 
Diana:  a  nun  of  winter's  sisterhood  kisses 

108.  "wind";  turn.— C.  H.  H. 
85 


Act  III.  Sc.  iv.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

not  more  religiously;  the  very  ice  of  chastity 
is  in  them. 

Ros,  But  why  did  he  swear  he  would  come  this 
morning,  and  comes  not?  20 

Cel.  Nay,  certainly,  there  is  no  truth  in  him. 

Ros.  Do  you  think  so? 

Cel.  Yes;  I  think  he  is  not  a  pick-purse  nor  a 
horse-stealer ;  but  for  his  verity  in  love,  I  do 
think  him  as  concave  as  a  covered  goblet  or  a 
worm-eaten  nut. 

Ros.  Not  true  in  love? 

Cel.  Yes,  when  he  is  in;  but  I  think  he  is  not 
in. 

Ros.  You  have  heard  him  swear  downright  he    30 
was. 

Cel.  'Was'  is  not  'is':  besides,  the  oath  of  a 

lover  is  no  stronger  than  the  word  of  a  tap- 

^  step;  they  are  both  the  confirmer  of  false 

reckonings.     He  attends  here  in  the  forest 

on  the  Duke  your  father. 

Ros.  I  met  the  Duke  yesterday  and  had  much 
question  with  him:  he  asked  me  of  what 
parentage  I  was;  I  told  him,  of  as  good  as 
he ;  so  he  laughed  and  let  me  go.  But  wliat  40 
talk  we  of  fathers,  when  there  is  such  a  man 
as  Orlando? 

Cel,  O,  that's  a  brave  man!  he  writes  brave 
verses,  speaks  brave  words,  swears  brave 
oaths  and  breaks  them  bravely,  quite  trav- 
erse, athwart  the  heart  of  his  lover;  as  a 
puisny  tilter,  that  spurs  his  horse  but  on  one 

86 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  in.  Sc.  v. 

side,  breaks  his  staff  like  a  noble  goose:  but 
all's  brave  that  youth  mounts  and  folly 
guides.     Who  comes  here?  50 

Enter  Covin. 

Cor.  Mistress  and  master,  you  have  oft  inquired 
After  the  shepherd  that  complain'd  of  love. 
Who  you  saw  sitting  by  me  on  the  turf, 
Praising  the  proud  disdainful  shepherdess 
That  .was  his  mistress. 

Cel.  Well,  and  what  of  him? 

Cor.  If  you  will  see  a  pageant  truly  play'd. 
Between  the  pale  complexion  of  true  love 
And  the  red  glow  of  scorn  and  proud  disdain. 
Go  hence  a  little  and  I  shall  conduct  you,     60 
If  you  will  mark  it. 

^Ros.  O,  come,  let  us  remove: 

The  sight  of  lovers  feedeth  those  in  love. 
Bring  us  to  this  sight,  and  you  shall  say 
I  '11  prove  a  busy  actor  in  their  play.    [Exeunt. 


Scene  V 

^Another  part  of  the  forest. 

Enter  Silvius  and  Phehe. 

Sil.  Sweet  Phebe,  do  not  scorn  me;  do  not,  Phebe; 
Say  that  you  love  me  not,  but  say  not  so 
In  bitterness.     The  common  executioner, 

48.  "noble  goose";  Hanmer  substituted  "nose-quilled"  for  "noble" 
which  is,  of  course,  used  ironically. — I.  G. 

87 


Act  III.  Sc.  V.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

Whose  heart  the   aceustom'd   sight  of  death 

makes  hard, 
Falls  not  the  axe  upon  the  humbled  neck 
But  first  begs  pardon :  will  you  sterner  be 
Than  he  that  dies  and  lives  by  bloody  drops? 

Enter  Rosalind,  Celia,  and  Covin,  behind. 

Phe.  1  would  not  be  thy  executioner: 
I  fly  thee,  for  I  would  not  injure  thee. 
Thou  tell'st  me  there  is  murder  in  mine  eye :    1^ 
'Tis  pretty,  sure,  and  very  probable. 
That   eyes,   that   are   the   frail'st   and   softest 

things, 
Who  shut  their  coward  gates  on  atomies. 
Should  be  call'd  tyrants,  butchers,  murderers! 
Now  I  do  frown  on  thee  with  all  my  heart; 
And  if  mine  eyes  can  wound,  now  let  them  kill 

thee: 
Now  counterfeit  to  swoon ;  why  now  fall  down ; 
Or  if  thou  canst  not,  O,  for  shame,  for  shame, 
Lie  not,  to  say  mine  ej'^es  are  murderers ! 
Now  show  the  wound  mine  eye  hath  made  in 

thee:  20 

Scratch  thee  but  with  a  pin  and  there  remains 
Some  scar  of  it ;  lean  but  upon  a  rush, 

6.  "But  first  begs";  without  first  begging.— C.  H.  H. 

7.  "dies  and  Ihes,"  i.  e.  "lives  and  dies,"  i.  e.  "subsists  from  the 
cradle  to  the  grave";  the  inversion  of  the  words  seems  to  have  been 
an  old  idiom;  cp.  Bomaunt  of  the  Rose,  v.  5,790: — 

"With,  sorwe  they  both  die  and  live, 
That  unto  Richesse  her  hertis  yive." 

Other    passages    in    later    literature    might    be    adduced    where    the 
exigencies  of  meter  do  not  exist. — I.  G. 

88 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  III.  Sc.  v. 

The  cicatrice  and  capable  impressure 

Thy  pakti  some  moment  keeps;  but  now  mine 

eyes, 
Which  I  have  darted  at  thee,  hurt  thee  not, 
Nor,  I  am  sure,  there  is  no  force  in  eyes 
That  can  do  hurt. 

Sil.  O  dear  Phebe, 

If  ever, — as  that  ever  msLy  be  near, — 

You  meet  in  some  fresh  cheek  the  power  of 

fancy. 
Then  shall  you  know  the  wounds  invisible         30 
That  love's  keen  arrows  make. 

Phe.  But  till  that  time 

Come  not  thou  near  me:  and  when  that  time 

comes, 
Afflict  me  with  thy  mocks,  pity  me  not; 
As  till  that  time  I  shall  not  pity  thee. 

Ros.  And  why,  I  pray  you?     Who  might  be  your 
mother, 
That  you  insult,  exult,  and  all  at  once, 
Over  the  wretched?     What  though  you  have 

no  beauty, — 
As,  by  my  faith,  I  see  no  more  in  you 
Than  without  candle  may  go  dark  to  bed, — 
Must  you  be  therefore  proud  and  pitiless  ?       40 

iO.  "proud  and  pitiless";  the  commentators  have  made  mudi  ado 
over  this  innocent  passage,  all  of  which  only  goes  to  show  that  they 
did  not  understand  it.  Some  would  strike  out  no  before  beauty, 
others  would  change  it  into  mo,  or  more:  whereas  the  peculiar  force 
of  the  passage  is,  that  Rosalind,  wishing  to  humble  Pliebe,  takes  for 
granted  that  she  is  herself  aware  she  has  no  beauty,  and  is  therefore 
proud,  even  because  she  has  none.  Rosalind  knows  that  to  tell  her 
she  ought  not  to  be  proud  because  she  has  beauty,  would  but  make 
her  prouder;  she  therefore  tells  her  she  ought  not  to  be  proud  be- 

89 


Act  III.  Sc.  V.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

Why,  what  means  this?     Why  do  you  look  on 

me? 
I  see  no  more  in  you  than  in  the  ordinary 
Of  nature's  sale-work.     'Od's  my  little  life, 
I  think  she  means  to  tangle  my  eyes  too ! 
No,  faith,  proud  mistress,  hope  not  after  it: 
'Tis  not  your  inky  brows,  your  black  silk  hair, 
Your  bugle  eyeballs,  nor  your  cheek  of  cream. 
That  can  entame  my  spirits  to  your  worship. 
You  foolish  shepherd,  wherefore  do  you  follow 

her. 
Like    foggy    south,    puffing    with    wind    and 

rain?  50 

You  are  a  thousand  times  a  properer  man 
Than  she  a  woman ;  'tis  such  fools  as  you 
That  makes  the  world  full  of  ill-favor'd  chil- 
dren: 
'Tis  not  her  glass,  but  you,  that  flatters  her ; 
And  out  of  you  she  sees  herself  more  proper 
Than  any  of  her  lineaments  can  show  her. 
But,  mistress,  know  yourself:  down  on  your 

knees. 
And  thank  heaven,  fasting,  for  a  good  man's 

love: 
For  I  must  tell  you  friendly  in  your  ear, 
Sell    when    you    can:    you    are    not    for    all 

markets.  60 

cause  she  lacks  it.  Need  we  add,  that  the  best  way  to  take  down 
people's  pride  often  is,  to  assume  that  they  cannot  be  so  big  fools 
as  to  think  they  have  anything  to  be  proud  of? — H.  N.  H. 

43.  "sale-work";  ready-made  goods. — C.  H.  H. 

46.  Dark  hair  and  brows  were  disparaged  at  the  court  of  the 
auburn-haired  queen. — C.  H.  H. 

48.  "to  your  -worship";  to  adore  you. — C.  H.  H. 

90 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  iii.  Sc.  v. 

Cry  the  man  mercy;  love  him;  take  his  offer: 
Foul  is  most  foul,  being  foul  to  be  a  scoffer. 
So  take  her  to  thee,  shepherd :  fare  you  well. 

Phe,  Sweet  youth,  I  pray  you,  chide  a  year  to- 
gether : 
I  had  rather  hear  you  chide  than  this  man  woo. 

Ros.  He's  fallen  in  love  with  your  foulness  and 
she  '11  fall  in  love  with  my  anger.     If  it  be 
so,  as  fast  as  she  answers  thee  with  frowning 
looks,  I  '11  sauce  her  with  bitter  words.    Why 
look  you  so  upon  me?  "70 

Phe,  For  no  ill  will  I  bear  you. 

Ros.  I  pray  you,  do  not  fall  in  love  with  me, 
For  I  am  falser  than  vows  made  in  wine: 
Besides,  I  like  you  not.     If  you  will  know  my 

house, 
'Tis  at  the  tuft  of  oHves  here  hard  by. 
Will  you  go,  sister?     Shepherd,  ply  her  hard. 
Come,  sister.     Shepherdess,  look  on  him  better. 
And  be  not  proud:  though  all  the  world  could 

see. 
None  could  be  so  abused  in  sight  as  he.  80 

Come,  to  our  flock. 

[Exeunt  Rosalind j  Celia  and  Corin. 

Phe.  Dead  shepherd,  now  I  find  thy  saw  of  might, 
'Who  ever  loved  that  loved  not  at  first  sight?' 

62.  "being  foul  to  be  a  scoffer";  that  is,  the  ugly  seem  most  ugly, 
when,  as  if  proud  of  their  ugliness,  they  set  up  for  scoffers. — 
H.  N.  H. 

66.  "in  love  with  your  foulness";  the  first  clause  of  this  sentence 
is  addressed  to  Phebe;  the  other  to  the  rest  of  the  company.  Your 
is  commonly  changed  to  her;  whereas  the  very  strength  of  the  speech 
lies  in  its  being  spoken  to  the  person  herself. — H.  N.  H. 

83.  "who  ever  loved"  etc.;  this  line  is  from  the  first  Sestiad  of 

91 


Act  III.  Sc.  V.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

Sil.  Sweet  Phebe, — 

Phe,  Ha,  what  say'st  thou,  Silvius? 

Sil..  Sweet  Phebe,  pity  me. 

Phe.  Why,  I  am  sorry  for  thee,  gentle  Silvius. 

SiL  Wherever  sorrow  is,  relief  would  be : 
If  you  do  sorrow  at  my  grief  in  love. 
By  giving  love  your  sorrow  and  my  grief 
Were  both  extermined. 

Phe.  Thou  hast  my  love:  is  not  that  neighborly?  90 

Sil.  I  would  have  you. 

Phe.  Why,  that  were  covetousness, 

Silvius,  the  time  was  that  I  hated  thee. 
And  yet  it  is  not  that  I  bear  thee  love ; 
But  since  that  thou  canst  talk  of  love  so  well, 
Thy  company,  which  erst  was  irksome  to  me, 
I  will  endure,  and  I  '11  employ  thee  too : 
But  do  not  look  for  further  recompense 
Than  thine  own  gladness  that  thou   art  em- 
ploy'd. 

Sil.  So  holy  and  so  perfect  is  my  love, 

And  I  in  such  a  poverty  of  grace,  100 

Marlowe's  version  of  Eero  and  Leander,  which  was  not  printed  till 
1598,  though  the  author  was  killed  in  1593.  The  poem  was  de- 
servedly popular,  and  the  words  "dead  shepherd"  look  as  though 
Shakespeare  remembered  him  with  affection.  The  passage  runs  as 
follows: 

"It  lies  not  in  our  power  to  love  or  hate, 
For  will  in  us  is  overrul'd  by  fate. 
When  two  are  stripp'd,  long  ere  the  course  begin, 
We  wish  that  one  should  lose,  the  other  win: 
And  one  especially  we  do  affect 
Of  two  gold  ingots,  like  in  each  respect. 
The  reason  no  man  knows:  let  it  suffice. 
What  we  behold  is  censur'd  by  our  eyes. 
Where  both  deliberate,  the  love  is  slight: 
Who  ever  lov'd,  that  lov'd  not  at  first  sight?"— H.  N.  H. 
92 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  (Act  III.  Sc.  v. 

That  I  shall  think  it  a  most  plenteous  crop 

To  glean  the  broken  ears  after  the  man 

That  the  main  harvest  reaps;  loose  now  and 

then 
A  scatter'd  smile,  and  that  I  '11  live  upon. 
Phe,  Know'st  thou  the  youth  that  spoke  to  me 

erewhile  ? 
Sil.  Not  very  well,  but  I  have  met  him  oft; 

And  he  hath  bought  the  cottage  and  the  bounds 
That  the  old  carlot  once  was  master  of. 
Phe.  Think  not  I  love  him,  though  I  ask  for  him; 
'Tis  but  a  peevish  boj^;  yet  he  talks  well;      HO 
But  what  care  I  for  words?  yet  words  do  well 
When  he  that  speaks  them  pleases  those  that 

hear. 
It  is  a  pretty  youth :  not  very  pretty : 
But,  sure,  he  's  proud,  and  yet  his  pride  be- 
comes him: 
He  '11  make  a  proper  man :  the  best  thing  in  him 
Is  his  complexion;  and  faster  than  his  tongue 
Did  make  offense  his  eye  did  heal  it  up. 
He  is  not  very  tall ;  yet  for  his  years  he  's  tall : 
His  leg  is  but  so  so;  and  yet  'tis  well: 
There  was  a  pretty  redness  in  his  lip,  120 

A  little  riper  and  more  lusty  red 
Than  that  mix'd  in  his  cheek;  'twas  just  the 

difference 
Betwixt  the  constant  red  and  mingled  damask. 
There  be  some  women,  Silvius,  had  they  mark'd 

him 
In  parcels  as  I  did,  would  have  gone  near 
To  fall  in  love  with  him :  but,  for  my  part, 
93 


Act  III.  Sc.  V.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

I  love  him  not  nor  hate  him  not ;  and  yet 
I  have  more  cause  to  hate  him  than  to  love  him : 
For  what  had  he  to  do  to  chide  at  me  ? 
He  said  mine  eyes  were  black  and  my  hair 
black;  130 

'And,  now  I  am  remember'd,  scorn'd  at  me : 
I  marvel  why  I  answer'd  not  again: 
But  that's  all  one;  omittance  is  no  quittance. 
I  '11  write  to  him  a  very  taunting  letter, 
And  thou  shalt  bear  it:  wilt  thou,  Silvius? 

Sil.  Phebe,  ^vith  all  my  heart. 

Phe.  I  '11  write  it  straight; 

The  matter's  in  my  head  and  in  my  heart: 
I  will  be  bitter  with  him  and  passing  short. 
Go  with  me,  Silvius.  \_Exeunt, 


m 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  iv.  Sc.  i. 


ACT  FOURTH 

Scene  I 

The  forest. 
Enter  Rosalind,  Celia,  and  Jaques. 

Jaq.  I  prithee,  pretty  youth,  let  me  be  better 
acquainted  with  thee. 

Ros.  They  say  you  are  a  melancholy  fellow. 

Jaq.  I  am  so ;  I  do  love  it  better  than  laughing. 

Ros.  Those  that  are  in  extremity  of  either  are 
abominable  fellows,  and  betray  themselves 
to  every  modern  censure  worse  than  drunk- 
ards. 

Jaq.  Why,  'tis  good  to  be  sad  and  say  nothing. 

Ros.  Why  then,  'tis  good  to  be  a  post.  10 

Jaq.  I  have  neither  the  scholar's  melancholy, 
which  is  emulation;  nor  the  musician's,  which 
is  fantastical;  nor  the  courtier's,  which  is 
proud ;  nor  the  soldier's,  which  is  ambitious ; 
nor  the  lawj^er's,  which  is  politic;  nor  the 
lady's,  which  is  nice;  nor  the  lover's,  which 
is  all  these:  but  it  is  a  melancholy  of  mine 
own,  compounded  of  many  simples,  ex- 
tracted from  many  objects;  and  indeed  the 
sundry  contemplation  of  my  travels,  in 
95 


20 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  AS  you  LIKE  IT 

which  my  often  rumination  wraps  me  in  a 
most  hmnorous  sadness. 

Ros.  A  traveler!  By  my  faith,  you  have 
great  reason  to  be  sad:  I  fear  you  have 
sold  3"our  own  lands  to  see  other  men's ;  then, 
to  have  seen  much,  and  to  have  nothing,  is 
to  have  rich  eyes  and  poor  hands. 

Jaq.  Yes,  I  have  gained  my  experience. 

Ros.  And  your  experience  makes  you  sad:  I 
had  rather  have  a  fool  to  make  me  merry   30 
than  experience  to  make  me  sad;  and  to 
travel  for  it  too! 

Enter  Orlando. 

Orl.  Good-day  and  happiness,  dear  Rosalind! 

Jaq.  Nay,  then,  God  buy  you,  an  you  talk  in 
blank  verse.  [Exit. 

Ros.  Farewell,  ISIonsieur  Traveler:  look  you 
lisp  and  wear  strange  suits;  disable  all  the 
benefits  of  your  own  country ;  be  out  of  love 
with  your  nativity  and  almost  chide  God  for 
making  you  that  countenance  you  are;  or  I  '^^ 
will  scarce  think  }^ou  have  swom  in  a  gon- 
dola. Why,  how  now,  Orlando!  where 
have  you  been  all  this  while  ?  You  a  lover ! 
An  you  serve  me  such  another  trick,  never 
come  in  my  sight  more. 

Orl.  ISIy  fair  Rosalind,  I  come  within  an  hour 
of  my  promise. 

41.  "sirom  in  a  f/ondola";  that  is,  been  at  Venice,  then  the  resort  of 
all  travelers,  as  Paris  now.  Shakesjieare's  contemporaries  also  point 
their  shafts  at  the  corruption  of  our  youth  by  travel.  Bishop  Hall 
wrote  his  little  booJi  Quo  Vadis?  to  stem  the  fashion. — H.  N.  H. 

96 


60 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  iv.  Sc.  i. 

Ros,  Break  an  hour's  promise  in  love !  He  that 
will  divide  a  minute  into  a  tliousand  parts,  ' 
and  break  but  a  part  of  the  thousandth  part  50 
of  a  minute  in  the  affairs  of  love,  it  may  be 
said  of  him  that  Cupid  hath  clapped  him  o' 
the  shoulder,  but  I  '11  warrant  him  heart- 
whole. 

Orl.  Pardon  me,  dear  Rosalind. 

Ros,  Nay,  an  you  be  so  tardy,  come  no  more  in 
my  sight :  I  had  as  hef  be  wooed  of  a  snail. 

Orl.  Of  a  snail? 

Ros.  Aye,  of  a  snail;  for  though  he  comes 
slowly,  he  carries  his  house  on  his  head;  a 
better  jointure,  I  think,  than  you  make  a 
woman:  besides,  he  brings  his  destiny  with 
him. 

Orl.  What's  that? 

Ros.  Why,  horns,  which  such  as  you  are  fain  to 
be  beholding  to  your  wives  for :  but  he  comes 
armed  in  his  fortunes  and  prevents  the 
slander  of  his  wife. 

Orl.  Virtue  is  no  horn-maker ;  and  my  Rosalind 
is  virtuous.  ^^ 

Ros,  And  I  am  your  Rosalind. 

Cel.  It  pleases  him  to  call  you  so ;  but  he  hath  a 
Rosalind  of  a  better  leer  than  you. 

Ros.  Come,  woo  me,  woo  me ;  for  now  I  am  in  a 
holiday  humor  and  like  enough  to  consent. 
What  would  you  say  to  me  now,  an  I  were 
your  very  very  Rosalind? 

Orl.  I  would  kiss  before  I  spoke. 

Ros.  Nay,   you  were   better   speak    first;   and 
XVIII— 7  97 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

when  you  were  graveled  for  lack  of  matter,    80 
fyou  might  take  occasion  to  kiss.     Very  good 

orators,  when  they  are  out,  they  will  spit; 

and   for  lovers  lacking — God  warn  us  I — 
Vaiatter,  the  cleanUest  shift  is  to  kiss. 
OrL  How  if  the  kiss  be  denied? 
Ros,  Then  she  puts  you  to  entreaty  and  there 

begins  new  matter. 
OrL  Who  could  be  out,  being  before  his  beloved 

mistress  ? 
Ros.  Marry,  that  should  you,  if  I  were  your    90 

mistress,    or    I    should   think   my   honesty 

ranker  than  my  wit. 
OrL  What,  of  my  suit? 
Ros.  Not  out  of  your  apparel,  and  yet  out  of 

your  suit.     Am  not  I  your  Rosalind? 
OrL  I  take  some  joy  to  say  you  are,  because  I 

would  be  talking  of  her. 
Ros,    Well,  in  her  person,  I  say  I  will  not  have 

you. 
OrL  Then  in  mine  own  person  I  die.  100 

Ros.  No,    faith,   die  by   attorney.     The   poor 

world  is  almost  six  thousand  years  old,  and 

in  all  this  time  there  was  not  any  man  died 

in  his  own  person,  videlicet,  in  a  love-cause. 

Troilus  had  his  brains  dashed  out  with  a 

Grecian  club ;  yet  he  did  what  he  could  to  die 

before,  and  he  is  one  of  the  patterns  of  love. 

iLeander,  he  would  have  lived  many  a  fair 

92.  "ranker";  greater.     If  she  did  not  discomfit  Orlando,  her  wit 
must  be  less  than  her  virtue. — C.  H.  H. 
101.  "by  attorney";  by  proxy.— C.  H.  H. 

98 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  iv.  Sc.  i. 

year,  though  Hero  had  turned  nun,  if  it  had 
not  been  for  a  hot  midsummer  night;  for,  HO 
good  youth,  he  went  but  forth  to  wash  him  in 
the  Hellespont  and  being  taken  with  the 
cramp  was  drowned :  and  the  foolish  chroni- 
clers of  that  age  found  it  was  'Hero  of 
Sestos.'  But  these  are  all  lies:  men  have 
died  from  time  to  time  and  worms  have 
eaten  them,  but  not  for  love. 

Orl.  I  would  not  have  my  right  Rosahnd  of 
this  mind;  for,  I  protest,  her  frown  might 
kill  me.  120 

Eos.  By  this  hand,  it  will  not  kill  a  fly.  But 
come,  now  I  ^vill  be  your  Rosalind  in  a  more 
coming-on  disposition,  and  ask  me  what  you 
will,  I  will  grant  it. 

Orl.  Then  love  me,  Rosalind. 

Ros.  Yes,  faith,  will  I,  Fridays  and  Saturdays 
and  all. 

Orl.  And  wilt  thou  have  me? 

Ros.  Aye,  and  twenty  such. 

Orl  What  sayest  thou?  130 

Ros.  Are  you  not  good? 

Orl.  I  hope  so. 

Ros.  Why  then,  can  one  desire  too  much  of  a 
good  thing?  Come,  sister,  you  shall  be  the 
priest  and  marry  us.  Give  me  your  hand, 
Orlando.     What  do  you  say,  sister? 

Orl.  Pray  thee,  marry  us. 

Cel.  I  cannot  say  the  words. 

Ros,  You  must  begin,  'Will  you,  Orlando — ' 

99 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

Cel.  Go  to.     Will  you,  Orlando,  have  to  wife  140 
this  Rosalind? 

Oil  I  will. 

Ros.  Aye,  but  when? 

Orl,  Why  now;  as  fast  as  she  can  marry  us. 

Ros.  Then  you  must  say  'I  take  thee,  Rosalind, 
for  wife.' 

Orl.  I  take  thee,  Rosalind,  for  wife. 

Ros.  I  might  ask  you  for  your  commission ;  but 
I  do  take  thee,  Orlando,  for  my  husband: 
there's  a  girl  goes  before  the  priest ;  and  150 
certainly  a  woman's  thought  runs  before  her 
actions. 

Orl.  So  do  all  thoughts;  they  are  winged. 

Ros.  Now  tell  me  how  long  you  would  have  her 
after  you  have  possessed  her. 

Orl.  For  ever  and  a  day. 

Ros.  Say  'a  day',  without  the  'ever'.  No,  no, 
Orlando;  men  are  April  when  they  woo, 
December  when  they  wed:  maids  are  May 
when  they  are  maids,  but  the  sky  changes  160 
when  they  are  wives.  I  will  be  more  jealous 
of  thee  than  a  Barbary  cock-pigeon  over  his 
hen,  more  clamorous  than  a  parrot  against 
rain,  more  new-fangled  than  an  ape,  more 
giddy  in  my  desires  than  a  monkey:  I  will 
weep  for  nothing,  like  Diana  in  the  foun- 
tain, and  I  will  do  that  when  you  are  dis- 

150.  "there's  a  girl  goes  before  the  priest";  that  is,  goes  faster  than 
the  priest,  gets  ahead  of  him  in  the  service;  alluding  to  her  anticipat- 
ing what  was  to  be  said  first  by  Celia. — H.  N.  H. 

166.  "like  Diana  in  the  fountain."  Stowe  mentions  in  his  Survey 
of  London  (1603)  that  there  was  set  up  in  1596  on  the  east  side  of 

100 


IAS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  IV.  Sc.  i. 

posed  to  be  merry ;  I  will  laugh  like  a  hyen, 
and  that  when  thou  art  inclined  to  sleep. 

OrL  But  will  my  Rosalind  do  so?  170 

Ros.  By  my  life,  she  will  do  as  I  do. 

Orl.  O,  but  she  is  wise. 

Ros.  Or  else  she  could  not  have  the  wit  to  do 
this:  the  wiser,  the  way  warder:  make  the 
doors  upon  a  woman's  wit  and  it  will  out  at 
the  casement ;  shut  that  and  'twill  out  at  the 
key -hole ;  stop  that,  'twill  fly  with  the  smoke 
out  at  the  chimney. 

Orl.  A  man  that  had  a  wife  with  such  a  wit,  he 
might  say  'Wit,  whither  wilt?'  180 

Ros.  Nay,  you  might  keep  that  check  for  it  till 
you  met  your  wife's  wit  going  to  your 
neighbor's  bed. 

Orl.  And  what  wit  could  wit  have  to  excuse  that. 

Ros.  Marry,  to  say  she  came  to  seek  you  there. 
You  shall  never  take  her  without  her  an- 
swer, unless  you  take  her  without  her 
tongue.  O,  that  woman  that  cannot  make 
her  fault  her  husband's  occasion,  let  her 
never  nurse  her  child  herself,  for  she  will  190 
breed  it  like  a  fool! 

the  cross  in  Cheapside  "a  curiously  wrought  tabernacle  of  grey 
marble,  and  in  the  same  an  alabaster  image  of  Diana,  and  water 
conveyed  from  the  Thames  prilling  from  her  naked  breast."  It  is 
very  doubtful  whether  Shakespeare  is  referring  to  this  particular 
"Diana,"  as  some  have  supposed. — I.  G. 

186.  "without  her  answer";  this  bit  of  satire  is  also  to  be  found  in 
Chaucer's  Marchantes  Tale,  where  Proserpine  says  of  women  on  like 
vcasion : 

"For  lacke  of  answere  none  of  us  shall  dien." — H.  N.  H. 
101 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

OrL  For  these  two  hours,  Rosalind,  I  will 
leave  thee. 

Ros.  Alas,  dear  love,  I  cannot  lack  thee  two 
hours ! 

Orl.  I  must  attend  the  Duke  at  dinner:  by  two 
o'clock  I  will  be  with  thee  again. 

Ros.  Aye,  go  your  ways,  go  your  ways ;  I  knew 
what  you  would  prove:  my  friends  told  me 
as  much,  and  I  thought  no  less:  that  flat- 200 
tering  tongue  of  yours  won  me:  'tis  but 
one  cast  away,  and  so,  come,  death!  Two 
o'clock  is  your  hour? 

Orl.  Aye,  sweet  Rosalind. 

Ros.  By  my  troth,  and  in  good  earnest,  and  so 
God  mend  me,  and  by  all  pretty  oaths  that 
are  not  dangerous,  if  you  break  one  jot  of 
your  promise  or  come  one  minute  behind 
your  hour,  I  will  think  you  the  most  pathet- 
ical  break-promise,  and  the  most  hollow 
lover,  and  the  most  unworthy  of  her  you  call«210 
Rosalind,  that  may  be  chosen  out  of  the 
gross  band  of  the  unfaithful:  therefore  be- 
ware my  censure  and  keep  your  promise. 

Orl.  With  no  less  religion  than  if  thou  wert 
indeed  my  Rosalind:  so  adieu. 

Ros.  Well,  Time  is  the  old  justice  that  exam- 
ines all  such  offenders,  and  let  Time  try: 
adieu.  [Exit  Orlando. 

Cel.  You  have  simply  misused  our  sex  in  your 
love-prate:  we  must  have  your  doublet  and220 

214.  "religion";  strict  observance. — C.  H,.  H. 
219.  "misused";  abused.— C.  H.  H. 

102 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  iv.  Sc.  ii. 

hose  plucked  over  your  head,  and  show  the 
world  what  the  bird  hath  done  to  her  own 
nest. 

Ros.  O  coz,  coz,  coz,  my  preety  little  coz,  that 
thou  didst  know  how  many  fathom  deep  I 
am  in  love!  But  it  cannot  be  sounded:  my 
affection  hath  an  unknown  bottom,  hke  the 
bay  of  Portugal. 

Cel.  Or  rather,  bottomless;  that  as  fast  as  you 
pour  affection  in,  it  runs  out.  230 

Ros.  No,  that  same  wicked  bastard  of  Venus 
that  was  begot  of  thought,  conceived  of 
spleen,  and  born  of  madness,  that  blind  ras- 
cally boy  that  abuses  every  one's  eyes  because 
his  own  are  out,  let  him  be  judge  how  deep  I 
am  in  love.  I  '11  tell  thee,  Aliena,  I  cannot 
be  out  of  the  sight  of  Orlando :  I  '11  go  find  a 
shadow  and  sigh  till  he  come. 

Cel.  And  I  '11  sleep.  [Exeunt. 


Scene  II 

The  forest. 
Enter  JaqueSj  Lords,  and  Foresters, 

Jaq.  Which  is  he  that  killed  the  deer? 

A  Lord.  Sir,  it  was  I. 

Jaq.  Let's  present  him  to  the  Duke,  like  a 
Roman  conqueror;  and  it  would  do  well  to 
set  the  deer's  horns  upon  his  head,  for  a 

103 


Act  IV.  Sc.  iiiuA  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

branch  of  victory.  Have  you  no  song,  for- 
ester, for  this  purpose? 

For.  Yes,  sir. 

Jaq.  Sing  it :  'tis  no  matter  how  it  be  in  tune,  so 
it  make  noise  enough.  10 

Song 

For.       What  shall  he  have  that  kill'd  the  deer? 
His  leather  skin  and  horns  to  wear. 

Then  sing  him  home : 

[The  rest  shall  hear  this  burden. 
Take  thou  no  scorn  to  wear  the  horn; 
It  was  a  crest  ere  thou  wast  born: 

Thy  father's  father  wore  it. 

And  thy  father  bore  it: 
The  horn,  the  horn,  the  lusty  horn 
Is  not  a  thing  to  laugh  to  scorn.    [Eiceunt. 

6.  "bfanch";  a  quibble,  the  term  being  also  applied  to  the  stag's 
antlers.— C.  H.  H. 

13.  The  words  "Then  sing  him  home,  the  rest  shall  bear  this  bur- 
den," are  printed  as  one  line  in  the  Folios.  Theobald  was  the  first 
to  re-arrange,  as  in  the  text.  Knight,  Collier,  Dyce,  and  others  take 
the  whole  to  be  a  stage-direction.  Knight  first  called  attention  to 
the  fact  that  possibly  the  original  music  for  this  song  is  to  be 
found  in  John  Hilton's  "Catch  that  Catch  Can;  or,  a  Choice  Collec- 
tion of  Catches,  Bounds,"  &c.,  1652  (printed  Furness,  p.  230,  231).— 
I.  G. 


104 


[AS  lYOU  LIKE  IT  Act  IV.  Sc.  iii 


Scene  III 

The  forest. 
Enter  Rosalind  and  Celia. 

Ros.  How  say  you  now?     Is  it  not  past  two 

o'clock?  and  here  much  Orlando! 
Cel.  I  warrant  you,  with  pure  love  and  troubled 

brain,  he  hath  ta'en  his  bow  and  arrows  and 

is  gone  forth  to  sleep.     Look,  who  comes 

here. 

Enter  Silvius. 

Sil.  My  errand  is  to  you,  fair  youth; 

My  gentle  Phebe  bid  me  give  you  this: 

I  know  not  the  contents ;  but,  as  I  guess 

By  the  stern  brow  and  waspish  action  10 

Which  she  did  use  as  she  was  writing  of  it, 

It  bears  an  angry  tenor:  pardon  me; 

I  am  but  as  a  guiltless  messenger. 

Ros.  Patience  herself  would  startle  at  this  letter 
And  play  the  swaggerer ;  bear  this,  bear  all : 
She  says  I  am  not  fair,  that  I  lack  manners; 
She  calls  me  proud,  and  that  she  could  not  love 

me. 
Were  man  as  rare  as  phoenix.     'Od's  my  will ! 
Her  love  is  not  the  hare  that  I  do  hunt: 
Why  writes  she   so  to  me?     Well,   shepherd, 
well,  20 

2.  "much  Orlando";  much  is  used  ironically;  as  Me  still  say, — 
"A  good  deal  you  will," — meaning,  of  course,  "No,  you  won't." — 
H.  N.  H. 

105 


Act  IV.  Sc.  iii.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

This  is  a  letter  of  your  own  device. 
Sil.  No,  I  protest,  I  know  not  the  contents. 

Phebe  did  write  it. 
Ros.  Come,  come,  you  are  a  fool, 

And  turn'd  into  the  extremity  of  love. 
I  saw  her  hand:  she  has  a  leathern  hand, 
A  f reestone-color'd  hand ;  I  verily  did  think 
That  her  old  gloves  were  on,  but  'twas  her 

hands : 
She  has  a  huswife's  hand ;  but  that 's  no  matter : 
I  say  she  never  did  invent  this  letter; 
This  is  a  man's  invention  and  his  hand.         30 
Sil.  Sure,  it  is  hers. 

Ros.  Why,  'tis  a  boisterous  and  a  cruel  style, 
A  style  for  challengers;  why,  she  defies  me, 
Like  Turk  to  Christian:  women's  gentle  brain 
Could  not  drop  forth  such  giant-rude  inven- 
tion. 
Such  Ethiope  words,  blacker  in  their  effect 
Than  in  their  countenance.     Will  you  hear  the 
letter? 
Sil.  So  please  you,  for  I  never  heard  it  yet; 

Yet  heard  too  much  of  Phebe's  cruelty. 
Ros.  She    Phebes    me:    mark    how    the    tyrant 
writes.  40 

l^Readsl  Art  thou  god  to  shepherd  turn'd. 

That  a  maiden's  heart  hath  burn'd? 
Can  a  woman  rail  thus  ? 
Sil.  Call  you  this  railing? 
Ros.  Ireadsl 

Why,  thy  godhead  laid  apart, 
Warr'st  thou  with  a  woman's  heart? 
106 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  iv.  Sc.  m. 

Did  you  ever  hear  such  raihng? 

Whiles  the  eye  of  man  did  woo  me, 
That  could  do  no  vengeance  to  me. 
Meaning  me  a  beast.  50 

If  the  scorn  of  your  bright  eyne 
Have  power  to  raise  such  love  in  mine. 
Alack,  in  me  what  strange  effect 
Would  they  work  in  mild  aspect! 
Whiles  you  chide  me,  I  did  love; 
How  then  might  your  prayers  move! 
He  that  brings  this  love  to  thee 
Little  knows  this  love  in  me : 
And  by  him  seal  up  thy  mind; 
Whether  that  thy  youth  and  kind  60 

Will  the  faithful  oifer  take 
Of  me  and  all  that  I  can  make; 
Or  else  by  him  my  love  deny. 
And  then  I  '11  study  how  to  die. 
Sil.  Call  you  this  chiding? 
Cel.  Alas,  poor  shepherd! 
Ros.  Do  you  pity  him?  no,  he  deserves  no  pity. 
Wilt  thou  love  such  a  woman?     What,  to 
make  thee  an  instrument  and  play   false 
strains  upon  thee!  not  to  be  endured!    Well,    7C 
go  your  way  to  her,  for  I  see  love  hath  made 
thee  a  tame  snake,  and  say  this  to  her :  that 
if  she  love  me,  I  charge  her  to  love  thee ;  if 
she  will  not,  I  will  never  have  her  unless  thou 
entreat  for  her.     If  you  be  a  true  lover, 

54.  "aspect";  appearance.     An  astrological  term. — C.  H.  H. 
60.  "youth  and  kind";  youthful  nature. — C.  H.  H. 


107 


Act  IV.  Sc.  iii.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

hence,  and  not  a  word ;  for  here  comes  more 
company. 

[Eant  Silvius. 

Enter  Oliver. 

OIL  Good  morrow,  fair  ones:  pray  you,  if  you 
know, 
Where  in  the  purheus  of  this  forest  stands 
A  sheep-cote  fenced  about  with  oUve-trees?      SO 

Cel.  West   of  this   place,    down  in  the   neighbor 
bottom : 
The  rank  of  osiers  by  the  murmuring  stream 
Left  on  your  right  hand  brings  you  to  the 

place. 
But  at  this  hour  the  house  doth  keep  itself; 
There's  none  Avithin. 

on.  If  that  an  eye  may  profit  by  a  tongue, 
Then  should  I  know  you  by  description ; 
Such  garments  and  such  years:     'The  boy  is 

fair. 
Of  female  favor,  and  bestows  himself 
Like  a  ripe  sister:  the  woman  low,  90 

And  browner  than  her  brother'.     Are  not  you 
The  owner  of  the  house  I  did  enquire  for? 

Cel.  It  is  no  boast,  being  ask'd,  to  say  we  are. 

OIL  Orlando  doth  commend  him  to  you  both, 
And  to  that  youth  he  calls  his  Rosalind 

78.  "fair  ones";  Mr.  Wright  suggests  that  perhaps  we  should 
read  "fair  one,"  and  Mr.  Furness  assents  to  the  view  that  "Shake- 
speare seems  to  have  forgotten  that  Celia  was  apparently  the  only 
woman  present."  But  surely  it  is  noteworthy  that  Oliver  a  few 
lines  lower  down  gives  the  description: — "The  boy  is  fair"  &c. — I.  G. 

90.  "like  a  ripe  sister:  the  icoman  lotp";  the  pause  at  the  woman 
low  caesura  takes  the  place  of  a  syllable. — I.  G. 

108 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  iv.  Sc.  iii. 

He  sends  this  bloody  napkin.     Are  you  he? 
Ros.  I  am:  what  must  we  understand  by  this? 
OIL  Some  of  my  shame ;  if  you  will  know  of  me 
What  man  I  am,  and  how,  and  why,  and  where 
This  handkercher  was  stain'd.  100 

Cel.  I  pray  you,  tell  it. 

OIL  When  last  the  young  Orlando  parted  from 
you 
He  left  a  promise  to  return  again 
Within  an  hour,  and  pacing  through  the  forest, 
Chewing  the  food  of  sweet  and  bitter  fancy, 
Lo,  what  befell!  he  threw  his  eye  aside. 
And  mark  what  object  did  present  itself: 
Under  an  oak,  whose  boughs  were  moss'd  with 

age 
And  high  top  bald  with  dry  antiquity, 
A    wretched    ragged    man,    o'ergrown    with 
hair,  110 

Lay  sleeping  on  his  back:  about  his  neck 
A  green  and  gilded  snake  had  wreathed  it- 
self, 
Who   with   her   head   nimble   in   threats   ap- 

proach'd 
The  opening  of  his  mouth;  but  suddenly. 
Seeing  Orlando,  it  unlink'd  itself. 
And  with  indented  glides  did  slip  away 
Into  a  bush :  under  which  bush's  shade 
A  lioness,  with  udders  all  drawn  dry, 

104.  "chewing  the  food,"  usually  quoted  as  "chewing  the  cud,"  a 
correction  of  the  line  first  suggested  by  Scott  {cp.  Introduction  to 
Quenfin  Duncard). — I.  G. 

107.  "an  oak."  Pope's  almost  certain  correction  for  an  old  Oake 
(Ff.),  which  renders  the  next  line  otiose. — C.  H.  H. 

109 


Act  IV.  Sc.  iii.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

Lay  couching,  head  on  ground,  with  catUke 

watch. 
When  that  the  sleeping  man  should  stir;  for 
'tis  120 

The  royal  disposition  of  that  beast 
To  prey  on  nothing  that  doth  seem  as  dead: 
This  seen,  Orlando  did  approach  the  man 
And  found  it  was  his  brother,  his  elder  brother. 

Cel.  O,  I  have  heard  him  speak  of  that  same 
brother ; 
And  he  did  render  him  the  most  unnatural 
That  lived  amongst  men. 

on.  And  well  he  might  so  do. 

For  well  I  know  he  was  unnatural. 

Ros.  But,  to  Orlando:  did  he  leave  him  there,  130 
Food  to  the  suck'd  and  hungry  lioness? 

Oli.  Twice  did  he  turn  his  back  and  purposed  so ; 
But  kindness,  nobler  ever  than  revenge. 
And  nature,  stronger  than  his  just  occasion. 
Made  him  give  battle  to  the  lioness, 

122.  "To  prey  on  nothing  that  doth  seem  as  dead";  the  bringing 
lions,  serpents,  palm-trees,  rustic  shepherds,  and  banished  noblemen 
together  in  the  forest  of  Arden,  is  a  strange  piece  of  geographical 
licence,  which  the  critics  of  course  have  not  failed  to  grow  big 
withal.  Perhaps  they  did  not  see  that  the  very  grossness  of  the 
thing  proves  it  to  have  been  designed.  By  this  irregular  combination 
of  actual  things  he  informs  the  whole  with  deal  effect,  giving  to  this 
charming  issue  of  his  brain  "a  local  habitation  and  a  name,"  that 
it  may  link  in  with  our  flesh-and-blood  sympathies,  and  at  the  same 
time  turning  it  into  a  wild,  wonderful,  remote,  fairy-land  region, 
where  all  sorts  of  poetical  things  may  take  place  without  the  slight- 
est difficulty.  Of  course  Shakespeare  would  not  have  done  thus,  but 
that  he  saw  quite  through  the  grand  critical  humbug,  which  makes 
the  proper  effect  of  a  work  of  art  depend  upon  our  belief  in  the 
actual  occurrence  of  the  thing  represented. — H.  N.  H. 

134.  "his  just  occasion";  his  legitimate  opportunity  of  revenge. — 
C.  H.  H. 

110 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  iv.  Sc.  iu. 

Who  quickly  fell  before  him :  in  which  hurtling 
From  miserable  slumber  I  awaked. 

Cel.  Are  you  his  brother? 

Ros.  Was't  you  he  rescued? 

Cel.  Was't  you  that  did  so  oft  contrive  to  kill 
him?  140 

on.  'Twas  I ;  but  'tis  not  I :  I  do  not  shame 
To  tell  you  what  I  was,  since  my  conversion 
So  sweetly  tastes,  being  the  thing  I  am. 

Ros.  But,  for  the  bloody  napkin? 

on.  '  By  and  by. 

When  from  the  first  to  last  betwixt  us  two 
Tears    our    recountments    had    most    kindly 

bathed, 
As  how  I  came  Into  that  desert  place ; 
In  brief,  he  led  me  to  the  gentle  Duke, 
Who    gave    me    fresh    array    and    entertain- 
ment, 150 
Committing  me  unto  my  brother's  love; 
Who  led  me  instantly  unto  his  cave, 
There  stripp'd  himself,  and  here  upon  his  arm 
The  lioness  had  torn  some  flesh  away, 
Which  all  this  while  had  bled;  and  now  he 

fainted 
And  cried,  in  faintings,  upon  Rosalind. 
Brief,  I  recover'd  him,  bound  up  his  wound; 
And,  after  some  small  space,  being  strong  at 

heart. 
He  sent  me  hither,  stranger  as  I  am, 
To  tell  this  story,  that  you  might  excuse     160 
His  broken  promise,  and  to  give  this  napkin. 
Dyed  in  his  blood  unto  the  shepherd  youth 
111 


Act  IV.  Sc.  iii.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

That  he  in  sport  doth  call  his  Rosalind. 

[Rosalind  swoons. 
Cel.  Why,  how  now,  Ganymede !  sweet  Ganymede ! 
OIL  JMany  will  swoon  Avhen  they  do  look  on  blood. 
Cel.  There  is  more  in  it.     Cousin  Ganymede' 
OIL  Look,  he  recovers. 
Ros.  I  would  I  were  at  home. 
Cel.  We  '11  lead  you  thither. 

I  pray  you,  will  you  take  him  by  the  arm  ?  170 
OIL  Be  of  good  cheer,  youth:  you  a  man!  you 

lack  a  man's  heart. 
Ros.  I  do  so,  I  confess  it.     All,  sirrah,  a  body 

would  think  this  was  well  counterfeited!     I 

pray   you,   tell   your   brother   how   well    I 

counterfeited.     Heigh-ho ! 
OIL  This  was  not  counterfeit :  there  is  too  great 

testimony  in  your  complexion  that  it  was  a 

passion  of  earnest. 
Ros.  Counterfeit,  I  assure  you.  180 

OIL  Well  then,  take  a  good  heart  and  counter- 
feit to  be  a  man. 
Ros.  So  I  do :  but,  i'  faith,  I  should  have  been  a 

woman  by  right. 
CeL  Come,  you  look  paler  and  paler :  pray  you, 

draw  homewards.     Good  sir,  go  with  us. 
Oli.  That  will  I,  for  I  must  bear  answer  back 

How  you  excuse  my  brother,  Rosalind. 
Ros.  I  shall  devise  something :  but,  I  pray  you, 

commend  my  counterfeiting  to  him.     Will  190 

you  go?  [Exeunt. 

179.  "a  passion  of  earnest";  unfeigned  emotion. — C.  H.  H, 
112 


A^  YOU  LIKE  IX  Act  V.  Sc.  i. 


ACT  FIFTH. 

Scene  I 

The  forest. 
Enter  Touchstone  and  Audrey, 

Touch.  We  shall  find  a  time,  Audrey ;  patience, 
gentle  Audrey. 

Aud.  Faith,  the  priest  was  good  enough,  for  all 
the  old  gentleman's  saying. 

Touch.  A  most  wicked  Sir  Oliver,  Audrey,  a 
most  vile  Martext.  But,  Audrey,  there  is  a 
youth  here  in  the  forest  lays  claim  to  you. 

Aud.  Aye,  I  know  who  'tis:  he  hath  no  interest 
in  me  in  the  world :  here  comes  the  man  you 
mean.  10 

Touch.  It  is  meat  and  drink  to  me  to  see  a 
clown:  by  my  troth,  we  that  have  good  wits 
have  much  to  answer  for ;  we  shall  be  flout- 
ing; we  cannot  hold. 

Enter  William,  ; 

Will.  Good  even,  Audrey. 

Aud.  God  ye  good  even,  William. 

Will.  And  good  even  to  you,  sir. 

Touch.  Good  even,  gentle  friend.  Cover  thy 
head,  cover  thy  head;  nay,  prithee,  be  cov- 
ered.    How  old  are  you,  friend  ?  20 

XVIII-8  113 


30 


Act  V.  Sc.  i.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

Will.  Five  and  twenty,  sir. 

Touch.  A  ripe  age.     Is  thy  name  William? 

Will.  William,  sir. 

Touch.  A  fair  name.  Wast  born  i'  the  forest 
here? 

Will.  Aye,  sir,  I  thank  God. 

Touch.  'Thank  God;'  a  good  answer.  Art 
rich  ? 

Will.  Faith,  sir,  so  so. 

Touch.  'So  so'  is  good,  very  good  very  excel- 
lent good;  and  yet  it  is  not;  it  is  but  so  so. 
Art  thou  wise? 

Will.  Aye,  sir,  I  have  a  pretty  wit. 

Touch.  Why,  thou  sayest  well.  I  do  now  re- 
member a  saying,  'The  fool  doth  think  he  is 
wise,  but  the  wise  man  knows  himself  to  be 
a  fool.'  The  heathen  philosopher,  when  he 
had  a  desire  to  eat  a  grape,  would  open  his 
lips  when  he  put  it  into  his  mouth ;  meaning 
thereby  that  grapes  were  made  to  eat  and 
lips  to  open.     You  do  love  this  maid? 

Will.  I  do,  sir. 

Touch.  Give  me  your  hand.    Art  thou  learned  ? 

Will.  No,  sir. 

Touch.  Then  learn  this  of  me:  to  have,  is  to 
have ;  for  it  is  a  figure  in  rhetoric  that  drink, 
being  poured  out  of  a  cup  into  a  glass,  by 
filling  the  one  doth  emi)ty  the  other;  for  all 
your  writers  do  consent  that  ipse  is  he :  now, 
you  are  not  ipse,  for  I  am  he.  50 

Will.  Which  he,  sir? 

Touch.  He,  sir,  that  must  marry  this  woman. 

114 


40 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  V.  Sc.  ii. 

Therefore,  you  clown,  abandon, — which  is 
in  the  vulgar,  leave, — the  society, — which  in 
the  boorish  is  company, — of  this  female, — 
which  in  the  common  is  woman;  which  to- 
gether is,  abandon  the  society  of  this  female, 
or,  clown,  thou  perishest;  or,  to  thy  better 
understanding,  diest;  or,  to  wit,  I  kill  thee, 
make  thee  away,  translate  thy  life  intq  60 
death,  thy  liberty  into  bondage:  I  will  deal 
in  poison  with  thee,  or  in  bastinado,  or  in 
steel;  I  will  bandy  with  thee  in  faction;  I 
will  o'er-run  thee  with  policy ;  I  will  kill  thee 
a  hundred  and  fifty  ways :  therefore  tremble, 
and  depart. 

Aud.  Do,  good  William. 

Will,  God  rest  you  merry,  sir.  [Exit. 

Enter  Covin. 

Cor.  Our  master  and  mistress  seeks  you;  come, 
away,  away!  70 

Touch.  Trip,  Audrey!  trip,  Audrey!  I  attend, 
I  attend. 

Scene  II 

The  forest. 

Enter  Orlando  and  Oliver. 

Orl.  Is't  possible  that  on  so  little  acquaintance 
you  should  like  her?  that  but  seeing  you 
should  love  her?  and  loving  woo?  and,  woo- 

64.  "policy";  stratagem. — C.  H.  H. 

115 


Act  V.  Sc.  ii.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

ing,  she  should  grant?  and  will  you  persever 
to  enjoy  her? 

OIL  Neither  call  the  giddiness  of  it  in  question, 
the  poverty  of  her,  the  small  acquaintance, 
my  sudden  wooing,  nor  her  sudden  consent- 
ing ;  but  say  with  me,  I  love  Aliena ;  say  with 
her  that  she  loves  me ;  consent  with  both  that  10 
we  may  enjoy  each  other:  it  shall  be  to  your 
good ;  for  my  father's  house  and  all  the  rev- 
enue that  was  old  Sir  Rowland's  will  I 
estate  upon  you,  and  here  live  and  die  a 
shepherd. 

Orl.  You  have  my  consent.  Let  your  wedding 
be  to-morrow :  thither  will  I  invite  the  Duke 
and  all 's  contented  followers.  Go  you  and 
prepare  Aliena;  for  look  you,  here  comes 
my  Rosalind.  20 

Enter  Rosalind, 

Ros.  God  save  j^ou,  brother. 

OIL  And  you,  fair  sister.  [Eccit. 

Ros.  O,  my  dear  Orlando,  how  it  grieves  me  to 

see  thee  wear  thy  heart  in  a  scarf ! 
Orl.  It  is  my  arm. 

4.  "will  you  persever"  etc.;  Shakespeare,  by  putting  this  question 
into  the  mouth  of  Orlando,  seems  to  have  been  aware  of  the  im- 
probability in  his  plot.  In  Lodge's  novel  the  elder  brother  is  in- 
strumental in  saving  Aliena  from  a  band  of  ruffians;  without  this 
circuiiistance  the  passion  of  Aliena  ajjpears  to  be  very  hasty  indeed. 
— H.  N.  H. 

22.  "fair  sister";  Oliver  addresses  "Ganymede"  thus  for  he  is 
Orlando's  counterfeit  Rosalind  (cp.  IV.  iii.  95).  Some  interpreters 
of  Shakespeare  are  of  opinion  that  Oliver  knows  the  whole  secret  of 
the  situation. — I.  G. 

116 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  V.  Sc.  ii. 

Ros,  I  tliougbt  thy  heart  had  been  wounded 
with  the  claws  of  a  Hon. 

Oii.  Wounded  it  is,  but  with  the  eyes  of  a  lady. 

Ros.  Did  your  brother  tell  you  how  I  counter- 
feited to  swoon  when  he  showed  me  your    30 
handkercher  ? 

O?'!.  Aye,  and  greater  wonders  than  that. 

Ros.  O,  I  know  where  you  are:  nay,  'tis  true: 
there  was  never  any  thing  so  sudden  but  the 
fight  of  two  rams,  and  Caesar's  thrasonical 
brag  of  'I  came,  saw,  and  overcame:'  for 
your  brother  and  my  sister  no  sooner  met 
but  they  looked;  no  sooner  looked  but  they 
loved;  no  sooner  loved  but  they  sighed;  no 
sooner  sighed  but  they  asked  one  another  40 
the  reason;  no  sooner  knew  the  reason  but 
they  sought  the  remedy:  and  in  these  de- 
grees have  they  made  a  pair  of  stairs  to 
marriage  which  they  will  climb  incontinent, 
or  else  be  incontinent  before  marriage :  they 
are  in  the  very  wrath  of  love  and  they  will  ^ 
together;  clubs  cannot  part  them. 

Orl.  They  shall  be  married  to-morrow,  and  I 
will  bid  the  Duke  to  the  nuptial.  But,  O, 
how  bitter  a  thing  it  is  to  look  into  happi- 
ness, through  another  man's  eyes!  By  so 
much  the  more  shall  I  to-morrow  be  at  the 
height  of  heart-heaviness,  by  how  much  I 
shall  think  my  brother  happy  in  having  what 
he  wishes  for. 

Ros.  Why,   then,   to-morrow    I    cannot   serve 
your  turn  for  Rosalind? 
117 


50 


Act  V.  Sc.  ii.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

Orl.  I  can  live  no  longer  by  thinking. 

Ros,  I  will  weary  you  then  no  longer  with  idle 
talking.  Know  of  me  then,  for  now  I  60 
speak  to  some  purpose,  that  I  know  you  are 
a  gentleman  of  good  conceit:  I  speak  not 
this  that  you  should  bear  a  good  opinion  of 
my  knowledge,  insomuch  I  say  I  know  you 
are;  neither  do  I  labor  for  a  greater  esteem 
than  may  in  some  little  measure  draw  a  be- 
lief from  you,  to  do  yourself  good  and  not 
to  grace  me.  Believe  then,  if  you  please, 
that  I  can  do  strange  things.  I  have,  since 
I  was  three  year  old,  conversed  with  a  ma-  70 
gician,  most  profound  in  his  art  and  yet 
not  damnable.  If  you  do  love  Rosalind  so 
near  the  heart  as  your  gesture  cries  it  out, 
when  your  brother  marries  Aliena,  shall  you 
marry  her :  I  know  into  what  straits  of  for- 
tune she  is  driven ;  and  it  is  not  impossible  to 
me,  if  it  appear  not  inconvenient  to  you,  to 
set  her  before  your  eyes  to-morrow  human 
as  she  is  and  without  any  danger. 

Orl.  Speakest  thou  in  sober  meanings?  80 

Ros.  By  my  life,  I  do;  which  I  tender  dearly, 
though  I  say  I  am  a  magician.     Therefore, 

81.  "which  I  tender  dearly";  probably  an  allusion  to  the  Act 
"against  Conjuracons,  Inchantments,  and  Witchecraftes,"  passed 
under  Elizabeth,  which  enacted  that  all  persons  using  witchcraft,  &c., 
whereby  death  ensued,  should  be  put  to  death  without  benefit  of 
clergy,  &c. — I.  G. 

82.  "/  am  a  magician";  she  alludes  to  the  danger  in  which  her 
avowal  of  practicing  magic,  had  it  been  a  serious  one,  would  have 
involved  her.  The  Poet  refers  to  his  own  times,  when  it  would 
have  brought  her  life  in  danger. — H.  N.  H. 

118 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  V.  Sc.  ii. 

put  you  in  your  best  array ;  bid  your  friends ; 
for  if  you  will  be  married  to-morrow,  you 
shall;  and  to  Rosalind,  if  you  will. 

Enter  Silvius  and  Phebe. 

Look,  here  comes  a  lover  of  mine  and  a  lover 

of  hers. 
Phe.  Youth,  you  have  done  me  much  ungentleness, 

To  show  the  letter  that  I  writ  to  you. 
Ros.  I  care  not  if  I  have:  it  is  my  study 

To  seem  despiteful  and  ungentle  to  you :         90 

You  are  there  followed  by  a  faithful  shepherd; 

Look  upon  him,  love  him;  he  worships  you. 
Phe.  Good  shepherd,  tell  this  youth  what  'tis  to 

love. 
Sil.  It  is  to  be  all  made  of  sighs  and  tears; 

And  so  am  I  for  Phebe. 
Phe.  And  I  for  Ganymede. 
Orl.  And  I  for  Rosalind. 
Ros.  And  I  for  no  woman. 
Sil.  It  is  to  be  all  made  of  faith  and  service; 

And  so  am  I  for  Phebe.  100 

Phe.  And  I  for  Ganymede. 
Orl.  And  I  for  Rosalind. 
Ros.  And  I  for  no  woman. 
Sil.  It  is  to  be  all  made  of  fantasy. 

All  made  of  passion,  and  all  made  of  wishes ; 

All  adoration,  duty,  and  observance, 

All  humbleness,  all  patience,  and  impatience, 

All  purity,  all  trial,  all  observance; 

And  so  am  I  for  Phebe. 
Phe.  And  so  am  I  for  Ganymede.  110 

Orl.  And  so  am  I  for  Rosalind. 

119 


Act  V.  Sc.  ii.  AS  YOU  LIIvE  IT 

Ros.  And  so  am  I  for  no  woman. 

PJic.  If  this  be  so,  why  blame  you  me  to  love 
you? 

Sil.  If  this  be  so,  why  blame  you  me  to  love 
you  ? 

Orl.  If  this  be  so,  why  blame  you  me  to  love 
you  ? 

Ros.  Who  do  you  speak  to,  'Why  blame  you 
me  to  love  you?'  120 

Orl.  To  her  that  is  not  here,  nor  doth  not  hear. 

Ros.  Pray  you,  no  more  of  this;  'tis  like  the 
howling  of  Irish  wolves  against  the  moon. 
[To  Sil.]  I  will  help  you,  if  I  can:  [To 
Phe.l  I  would  love  you,  if  I  could.  To- 
morrow meet  me  all  together.  [To  Phe.] 
I  will  marry  you,  if  ever  I  marry  woman, 
and  I  '11  be  married  to-morrow:  [To  Orl.] 
I  will  satisfy  you,  if  ever  I  satisfied  man, 
and  you  shall  be  married  to-morrow:  [To  130 
Sil.]  I  will  content  you,  if  what  pleases  you 
contents  you,  and  you  shall  be  married  to- 
morrow, [jf'o  Orl.]  As  you  love  Rosalind, 
meet:  [To  Sil.]  as  you  love  Phebe,  meet: 
and  as  I  love  no  woman,  I  '11  meet.  So, 
fare  you  well:  I  have  left  you  commands. 

*V//.  I  '11  not  fail  if  I  live. 

Phc.  Nor  I. 

(;/•/.  Nor  I. 

W'X  "In  love  you";  for  loving  you. — C.  H.  H. 

119.  "Who    do   you    speak    to";    Rowe's    emendation    for   tiie    folio 
reading  "Wliy  do  you  s})eak  too." — C.  H.   H. 

!.';{.   Wolves   were   still    found    in    Ireland.     In    England    they   had 
become  extinct  in  the  previous  century. — C.  H.  H. 

120 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  V.  Sc.  iii. 


Scene  III 

The  forest. 
Enter  Touchstone  and  Audrey. 

Touch.  To-moiTow  is  the  joyful  day,  Audrey; 

to-morrow  will  we  be  married. 
Aud.  I  do  desire  it  will  all  my  heart;  and  I  hope 

it  is  no  dishonest  desire  to  desire  to  be  a 

woman  of  the  world.     Here  come  two  of 

the  banished  Duke's  pages. 

Enter  two  Pages. 

First  Page.  Well  met,  honest  gentleman. 

Touch.  By  my  troth,  well  met.  Come,  sit,  sit, 
and  a  song. 

Sec.  Page.  We  are  for  you :  sit  i'  the  middle. 

First  Page.  Shall  we  clap  into  't  roundly,  with- 
out hawking  or  spitting  or  saying  we  are 
hoarse,  which  are  the  only  prologues  to  a  bad 
voice  ? 

Sec.  Page.  V  faith,  i'  faith;  and  both  in  a  tune, 
like  two  gipsies  on  a  horse. 


10 


Song 

It  was  a  lover  and  his  lass, 

With  a  hey,  and  a  ho,  and  a  hey  nonino, 

17.  Chappell  printed  the  music  of  the  song  from  a  MS.,  now  in 
the  Advocates'  Library,  Edinburgh,  belonging  to  the  early  part 
of  the  seventeenth  century  (cp.  F'urness,  pp.  262,  263).  In  the 
Folios  the  last  stanza  is  made  the  second.  Mr.  Roffe  is  of  opinion 
that  Shakespeare  contemplated  a  trio  between  the  Pages  and  Touch- 
stone.— I.  G. 

121 


Act  V.  Sc.  iii.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

That  o'er  the  green  corn-field  did  pass 

In   the   spring   time,    the   only   pretty   ring 
time.  20 

When  birds  do  sing,  hey  ding  a  ding,  ding: 
Sweet  lovers  love  the  spring. 

Between  the  acres  of  the  rye. 

With  a  hey,  and  a  lio,  and  a  hey  nonino, 
These  pretty  country  folks  would  lie, 

In  spring  time,  &c. 

This  carol  they  began  that  hour. 

With  a  hey,  and  a  ho,  and  a  hey  nonino, 

How  that  a  life  was  but  a  flower 

In  spring  time,  &c.  30 

And  therefore  take  tlie  present  time. 

With  a  hey,  and  a  ho,  and  a  hey  nonino; 

For  love  is  crowned  with  the  prime 
In  spring  time,  &c. 

Touch.  Truly,  young  gentlemen,  though  there 
was  no  great  matter  in  the  ditty,  yet  the  note 
was  very  untuneable. 

First  Page.  You  are  deceived,  sir:  we  kept 
time,  we  lost  not  our  time. 

Touch.  By  my  troth,  yes;  I  count  it  but  time    40 
lost  to  hear  such  a  foolisli  song.  God  be  wi* 
you;  and  God  mend  your  voices!     Come, 
Audrey.  [Exeunt. 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  V.  Sc.  iv. 

Scene  IV 

The  forest. 

Enter  Duke  senior,  Amiens,  Jaques,  Orlando, 
Oliver,  and  Celia. 

Duke  S.  Dost  thou  believe,  Orlando,  that  the  boy 
Can  do  all  this  that  he  hath  promised? 

Orl.  I  sometimes  do  believe,  and  sometimes  do  not ; 
As  those  that  feai*  they  hope,  and  know  they 
fear. 

Enter  Rosalind,  Silvius,  and  Phebe. 

Ros.     Patience  once  more,  whiles  our  compact  is 
urged : 
You  say,  if  I  bring-  in  your  Rosalind, 
You  will  bestow  her  on  Orlando  here? 
Duke  S.  That  would  I,  had  I  kingdoms  to  give 

with  her. 
Ros.  And  you  say,  you  will  have  her,  when  I  bring 

her. 
Orl.  That  would  I,  were  I  of  all  kingdoms  king.  1*^ 
Ros.  You  say,  you'  11  marry  me,  if  I  be  wilhng? 
Phe.  That  will  I,  should  I  die  the  hour  after. 
Ros.  But  if  you  do  refuse  to  marry  me, 

You  '11    give    yourself    to   this    most    faithful 
shepherd? 

4.  "As  those  (hat  fear  they  hope,  and  know  they  fear."  A  large 
number  of  unnecessary  emendations  have  been  proposed  for  this 
plausible  reading  of  the  Folios;  e.  g.  "fear,  they  hope,  and  know 
they  fear";  "fear  their  hope  and  hope  their  fear";  "fear  their  hope 
and  know  their  fear,"  &c.  The  last  of  these  gives  the  meaning  of 
the  line  as  it  stands  in  the  text. — I.  G. 

123     , 


Act  V.  Sc.  iv.  AS  lYOU  LIKE  IT 

Phe.  So  is  the  bargain. 

Ros.  You  say,  that  you  '11  have  Phebe,  if  she  will? 

Sil.  Though  to  have  her  and  death  were  both  one 
thing. 

Ros.  I  have  promised  to  make  all  this  matter  even. 
Keep  you  your  word,  O  Duke,  to  give  j^our 

daughter ; 
You  yours,  Orlando,  to  receive  his  daughter :  20 
Keep  your  word,  Phe]}e,  that  you  '11  marry  me, 
Or  else  refusing  me,  to  wed  this  shepherd: 
Keep  your  word,  Silvius,  that  you  '11  marry  her, 
If  she  refuse  me:  and  from  hence  I  go, 
To  make  these  doubts  all  even. 

[Exeunt  Rosalind  and  Celia. 

Duke  S.  I  do  remember  in  this  shepherd  boy 
Some  lively  touches  of  my  daughter's  favor. 

Orl.  My  lord,  the  first  time  that  I  ever  saw  him 
Methought  he  was  a  brother  to  your  daughter; 
But,  mj^  good  lord,  this  boy  is  forest-born,     30 
And  hath  been  tutor'd  in  the  rudiments 
Of  many  desperate  studies  by  his  uncle. 
Whom  he  reports  to  be  a  great  magician. 
Obscured  in  the  circle  of  this  forest. 

Enter  Touchstone  and  Audrey. 

Jaq.  There  is,  sure,  another  flood  toward,  and 
these  couples  are  coming  to  the  ark.  Here 
comes  a  pair  of  very  strange  beasts,  which 
in  all  tongues  are  called  fools. 

Touch.  Salutation  and  greeting  to  you  all! 

34.  "Obscured";  hidden;  with  a  suggestion  of  the  charmed  "circle" 
within  which  the  magician  remained  invisible. — C.  H.  H. 

121- 


50 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  V.  Sc.  iv. 

Jaq.  Good  my  lord,  bid  him  welcome:  this  is    40 
the  motley-minded  gentleman  that  I  have  so 
often  met  in  the   forest:  he  hath  been  a 
courtier,  he  swears. 

Touch.  If  any  man  doubt  that,  let  him  put  me 
to  my  purgation.  I  have  trod  a  measure ;  I 
have  flattered  a  lady ;  I  have  been  politic  with 
my  friend,  smooth  with  mine  enemy ;  I  have 
undone  three  tailors ;  I  have  had  four  quar- 
rels, and  like  to  have  fought  one. 

Jaq.  And  how  was  that  ta'en  up? 

Touch.  Faith,  we  met,  and  found  the  quarrel 
was  upon  the  seventh  cause. 

Jaq.  How  seventh  cause?  Good  my  lord,  like 
this  fellow. 

Duke  S.  1  like  him  very  well. 

Touch.  God  'ild  you,  sir;  I  desire  you  of  the 
like.  I  press  in  here,  sir,  amongst  the  rest 
of  the  country  copulatives,  to  swear  and  to 
forswear;  according  as  marriage  binds  and 
blood  breaks:  a  poor  virgin,  sir,  an  ill-fav-  60 
ored  thing,  sir,  but  mine  own ;  a  poor  humor 
of  mine,  sir,  to  take  that  that  no  man  else 
will:  rich  honesty  dwells  like  a  miser,  sir,  in 
a  poor  house;  as  your  pearl  in  your  foul 
oyster. 

Duke  S.  By  my  faith,  he  is  very  swift  and 
sententious. 

Touch.  According  to  the  fool's  bolt,  sir,  and 
such  dulcet  diseases. 

68.  "a  fool's  bolt";  there  was  an  old  proverb, — "A   fool's   bolt   is 
soon  shot."     See  Much  Ado  about  NotJnng,  Act  i.  sc.  1.— H.  N.  H. 

125 


Act  V.  Sc.  iv.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

Jaq.  But,  for  the  seventh  cause;  how  did  you    70 
find  the  quarrel  on  the  seventh  cause? 

Touch.  Upon  a  He  seven  times  removed: — bear 
your  body  more  seeming,  Audrey : — as  thus, 
sir.  I  did  disHke  the  cut  of  a  certain  cour- 
tier's beard:  he  sent  me  word,  if  I  said  his 
beard  was  not  cut  well,  he  was  in  the  mind 
it  was:  this  is  called  the  Retort  Courteous. 
If  I  sent  him  word  again  'it  was  not  well 
cut,'  he  would  send  me  word,  he  cut  it  to 
please  himself:  this  is  called  the  Quip  ^0 
Modest.  If  again  'it  was  not  well  cut,'  he 
disabled  my  judgment:  this  is  called  the 
Keply  Churlish.  If  again  'it  was  not  well 
cut,'  he  would  answer,  I  spake  not  true :  this 
is  called  the  Reproof  Valiant.  If  again  'it 
was  not  well  cut,'  he  would  say,  I  lie :  this  is 
called  the  Countercheck  Quarrelsome :  and  so 
to  the  Lie  Circumstantial  and  the  Lie  Di- 
rect. 

Jaq.  And  how  oft  did  you  say  his  beard  was  not    90 
well  cut? 

Touch.  I  durst  go  no  further  than  the  Lie  Cir- 
cumstantial, nor  he  durst  not  give  me  the 
Lie  Direct;  and  so  we  measured  swords  and 
parted. 

Jaq.  Can  you  nominate  in  order  now  the  de- 
grees of  the  lie? 

72,  "Upon  a  lie  seven  times  removed";  i.  e.  on  the  ground  of  a 
mild  and  conciliatory  contradiction  (the  Retort  Courteous),  sep- 
arated by  seven  grades  from  the  flat  contradiction  of  Lie  Direct. — 
C.  H.  H. 


126 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  V.  Sc.  iv. 

Touch.  O  sir,  we  quarrel  in  print,  by  the  book ; 
as  you  have  books  for  good  manners:  I  will 
name  you  the  degrees.  The  first,  the  Retort  100 
Courteous ;  the  second,  the  Quip  Modest ;  the 
third,  the  Reply  Churlish;  the  fourth,  the 
Reproof  Valiant;  the  fifth,  the  Counter- 
check Quarrelsome;  the  sixth,  the  Lie  wuth 
Circumstance;  the  seventh,  the  Lie  Direct. 
All  these  you  may  avoid  but  the  Lie  Direct ; 
and  you  may  avoid  that  too,  with  an  If.  I 
knew  when  seven  justices  could  not  take  up 
a  qiiai'j'el,  but  when  tlie  paities  were  met 
themselves,  one  of  them  thought  but  of  an  HO 
If,  as,  'If  you  said  so,  then  I  said  so;'  and 
they  shook  hands  and  swore  brothers.  Your 
If  is  the  only  peace-maker;  much  virtue  in 
If. 

Jaq.  Is  not  this  a  rare  fellow,  my  lord  J*  he  's  as 
good  at  any  thing  and  yet  a  fool. 

Duke  S.  He  uses  his  folly  like  a  stalking-horse 
and  under  the  presentation  of  that  he  shoots 
his  wit. 

98.  "we  quarrel  in  print,  by  the  book";  Shakespeare  probably  re- 
fers to  "Vincentio  Snriolo  his  Practise.  In  Two  Bookes.  The  first 
intreating  the  use  of  the  Rapier  and  Dagger.  The  second,  of 
Honor  and  honorable  Qtiarrels" ;  printed  in  1594. — I.  G. 

99.  "books  for  good  manners,"  e.  g.  "A  lytle  Booke  of  Good 
Maners  for  Chyldren  with  interpritation  into  the  vulgare  Englysshe 
tongue  by  R.  Whittinton,  Poet  Laurent";  printed  at  London  in  1554; 
(cp.  Dr.  Furnivall's  Bonk  of  Norture  of  John  Russell,  &c.,  pub- 
lished by  the  Early  English  Text  Society,  1868).  Cp.  Hamlet,  V.  ii. 
115,  "he  ({.  e.  Laertes)  is  the  card  or  calendar  of  gentry,"  a  probable 
allusion  to  the  title  of  some  such  "book  of  manners." — I.  G. 

117.  "stalking-horse";  a  real  or  artificial  horse  used  by  sportsmen 
as  a  cover  when  approaching  game. — C.  H.  H. 

127 


Act  V.  Sc.  iv.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

Enter  Hymen,  Bosalind,  and  Celia. 
Still  Music. 

Hym.         Then  is  there  mirth  in  heaven,  120 

When  earthly  things  made  even 

Atone  together. 
Good  Duke,  receive  thy  daughter : 
Hymen  from  heaven  brought  her, 

Yea,  brought  her  hither, 
That  thou  mightst  join  her  hand  with  his 
Whose  heart  within  his  bosom  is. 

Bos.  To  you  I  give  myself,  for  I  am  yours. 
To  you  I  give  myself,  for  I  am  yours. 
Duke  S.  If  tliere  be  truth  in  sight,  you  are  my 
daughter.  130 

Orh  If  there  be  truth  in  sight,  you  are  my  Rosa- 
lind. 
Phe.         If  sight  and  shape  be  true. 

Why  then,  my  lo^e  adieu! 
Bos.  I  '11  have  no  father,  if  you  be  not  he: 
I  '11  have  no  husband,  if  you  be  not  he : 
Nor  ne'er  wed  woman,  if  you  be  not  she. 
Ilyni.  Peace,  ho!  I  bar  confusion: 
'Tis  I  must  make  conclusion 

Of  these  most  strange  events: 
Here's  eight  that  must  take  hands  140 

To  join  in  Hymen's  bands. 
If  truth  holds  true  contents. 

1:30.  Ros.nlind  is  imagined  by  the  rest  of  the  company  to  be  brought 
l)y  enchantment,  and  is  therefore  introduced  by  a  supposed  aerial 
l)eing  in  tlie  character  of  Hymen. — H.  X.  H. 

1:36.  "her  hand  irith  his";  tlie  first  and  second  Folios,  "his  hand"; 
corrected  to  "he>-"  in  the  second  and  third  Folios. — I.  G. 

128 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  v.  Sc.  iv. 

You  and  you  no  cross  shall  part: 

You  and  you  are  heart  in  heart: 

You  to  his  love  must  accord, 

Or  have  a  woman  to  your  lord : 

You  and  you  are  sure  together. 

As  the  winter  to  foul  weather. 

Whiles  a  wedlock-hj^mn  we  sing, 

Feed  yourselves  with  questioning;  150 

That  reason  wonder  may  diminish. 

How  thus  we  met,  and  these  things  finish. 

Song 

Wedding  is  great  Juno's  crown: 
O  blessed  bond  of  board  and  bed ! 

'Tis  Hymen  peoples  every  town; 
High  wedlock  then  be  honored: 

Honor,  high  honor  and  renown. 

To  Hymen,  god  of  ever}^  town! 

Duke  S.  O  my  dear  niece,  welcome  thou  art  to  me ! 

Even  daughter,  welcome,  in  no  less  degree.  160 
Phe.  I  will  not  eat  my  word,  now  thou  art  mine; 

Thy  faith  my  fancy  to  thee  doth  combine. 

Enter  Jaques  de  Boys. 

Jaq.  de  B.  Let  me  have  audience  for  a  word  or 
two ; 

160.  "even  daughter,  welcome";  Theobald  proposed  "daughter- 
welcome,"  i.  e.  "welcome  as  a  daughter."  Folios  1,  2,  3,  read 
"daughter  welcome";  Folio  4,  "daughter,  welcome."  The  sense  is 
clear  whichever  reading  is  adopted,  though  the  rhythm  seems  in 
favor  of  the  reading  in  the  text:  "O  my  dear  niece,"  says  the 
Duke,  "nav,  daughter,  welcome  to  me  in  no  less  degree  than  daugh- 
ter."—I.  d 

XVIII-9  129 


Act  V.  Sc.  iv.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

I  am  the  second  son  of  old  Sir  Rowland, 
That  bring  these  tidings  to  this  fair  assembly. 
Duke  Frederick,  hearing  how  that  every  day 
Men  of  great  worth  resorted  to  this  forest, 
Address'd  a  mighty  power ;  which  were  on  foot, 
In  his  own  conduct,  purposely  to  take 
His  brother  liere  and  put  him  to  the  sword:  170 
And  to  the  skirts  of  this  wild  wood  he  came ; 
Where  meeting  with  an  old  religious  man, 
After  some  question  with  him,  was  converted 
Both  from  his  enterprise  and  from  the  world ; 
His  crown  bequeathing  to  liis  banish'd  brother. 
And  all  their  lands  restored  to  them  again 

164.  "second  son  of  old  Sir  Rowland";  in  the  old  copies  this 
Jaques  is  introduced  as  the  Second  Brother,  in  accordance  with  what 
he  here  says  of  himself.  Though  the  third  brother  brought  into  the 
play,  he  is  the  second  in  order  of  birth.  His  name  is  given  in  the 
first  scene,  and  he  is  spoken  of  as  being  -then  "at  school."  Which 
might  seem  to  make  Orlando  too  young  to  have  smashed  up  the 
great  wrestler;  but,  as  Mr.  Verplanck  observes,  school  was  then  a 
common  term  for  any  place  of  study  or  institution  of  learning, 
whether  academical  or  professional.  In  Lodge's  novel  Fernandinfi 
is  rej)resented  as  "a  scholar  in  Paris."  He,  also,  is  the  second  of 
three  brothers,  and,  like  Jaques  de  Bois,  arrives  quite  at  the  end  of 
the  story.— H.  N.  H. 

172.  "an  old  reUgioxia  man";  in  Lodge's  novel  the  usurper  is  not 
turned  from  his  purpose  by  any  such  pious  counsels,  but  conquered 
and  killed  by  the  twelve  peers  of  France,  who  undertake  the  cause 
of  Gerismond,  their  rightful  king.  Here  is  a  part  of  Fernandine's 
speech:  "For  know,  Gerismond,  that  hard  by  at  the  edge  of  this 
forest  the  twelve  peers  of  France  are  up  in  arms  to  recover  thy 
right;  and  Torismond,  troop'd  with  a  crew  of  desperate  runagates, 
is  ready  to  bid  them  battle.  The  armies  are  ready  to  join:  therefore 
show  thyself  in  the  field  to  encourage  thy  subjects.  And  you, 
Saladyne  and  Rosader,  mount  you,  and  show  yourselves  as  hardy 
soldiers  as  you  have  been  hearty  lovers:  so  shall  you  for  the  benefit 
of  your  country  discover  the  idea  of  your  father's  virtues  to  be 
stamped  in  your  thoughts,  and  prove  children  worthy  of  so  honour- 
able a  parent." — H.  N.  H. 

130 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  Act  V.  Sc.  iv. 

That  were  with  him  exiled.     This  to  be  true, 
I  do  engage  my  life. 
Duhe  S.  Welcome,  young  man ; 

Thou    ofFer'st    fairly    to    thy    brothers'    wed- 
ding: 180 
To  one  his  lands  withheld;  and  to  the  other 
A  land  itself  at  large,  a  potent  dukedom. 
First,  in  this  forest  let  us  do  those  ends 
That  here  were  well  begun  and  well  begot: 
And  after,  every  of  this  happy  number, 
That  have  endured  shrewd  days  and  nights  with 

us. 
Shall  share  the  good  of  our  returned  fortune, 
According  to  the  measure  of  their  states. 
INIeantime,  forget  this  new-fallen  dignity, 
And  fall  into  our  rustic  revelry.  190 

Play,  music !    And  you,  brides  and  bridegrooms 

all 
With  measure  heap'd  in  joy,  to  the  measures 
fall. 
Jaq.  Sir,    by    your    patience.     If    I    heard    you 
rightly. 
The  Duke  hath  put  on  a  religious  life 
And  thrown  into  neglect  the  pompous  court? 
Jaq.  de  B.  He  hath. 
Jaq.  To  him  will  I :  out  of  these  convertites 

There  is  much  matter  to  be  heard  and  learn'd. 
[To  Duke  /S.]  You  to  your  former  honor  I  be- 
queath ; 
Your  patience  and  your  virtue  well  deserves  it : 

181.  "the  other";  Orlando.~C.  H.  H. 
185.  "every";  every  one. — C.  H.  H. 

131 


Act  V.  Sc.  iv.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

[2^0  0/7.]  You  to  a  love,  that  your  true  faith  doth 

merit:  201 

[To  O//.].  You  to  your  land,  and  love,  and  great 

allies : 
[To  Sil.~\  You  to  a  long  and  well-deserved  bed: 
[To  Touch. 'I  And  you  to  wrangling ;  for  thy  loving 
voyage 
Is  but  for  two  months  victuall'd.     So,  to  your 

pleasures : 
I  am  for  other  than  for  dancing  measures. 
Duke  S.  Stay,  Jaques,  stay. 
Jaq.  To  see  no  pastime  I :  what  j'ou  would  have 
I  '11  stay  to  know  at  your  abandon'd  cave. 

[Ea:it 
Duke  S.  Proceed,   proceed:   we   will  begin  these 
rites, 
As  we  do  trust  they'll  end,  in  true  delights.  210 

[A  dance. 

i?08.  "To  see  no  pastime  1";  the  reader  feels  some  regret  to  take 
liis  leave  of  Jaques  in  this  manner;  and  no  less  concern  at  not  meet- 
ing with  the  faithful  old  Adam  at  the  close.  It  is  the  more  remark- 
able that  Shakespeare  should  have  forgotten  him,  because  Lodge, 
in  his  novel,  makes  him  captain  of  the  king's  guard. — H.  N.  H. 


1S2 


AS    YOU    LIKE    IT  Epilogue 


10 


EPILOGUE 

Ros.  It  is  not  the  fashion  to  see  the  lady  the 
epilogue ;  but  it  is  no  more  unhandsome  than 
to  see  the  lord  the  prologue.  If  it  be  true 
that  good  wine  needs  no  bush,  'tis  true  that 
a  good  play  needs  no  epilogue:  yet  to  good 
wine  they  do  use  good  bushes;  and  good 
plays  prove  the  better  by  the  help  of  good 
epilogues.  What  a  case  am  I  in  then,  that 
am  neither  a  good  epilogue,  nor  cannot  in- 
sinuate with  you  in  the  behalf  of  a  good 
play!  I  am  not  furnished  like  a  beggar, 
therefore  to  beg  will  not  become  me:  my 
way  is  to  conjure  you;  and  I  '11  begin  with 
the  women.  I  charge  you,  O  women,  for 
the  love  you  bear  to  men,  to  like  as  much  of 
this  play  as  please  you:  and  I  charge  you, 
O  men,  for  the  love  you  bear  to  women, — 
as  I  perceive  by  your  simpering,  none  of 
you  hates  them, — that  between  you  and  the 
women  the  play  may  please.  If  I  were  a  20 
woman  I  would  kiss  as  many  of  you  as  had 
beards  that  pleased  me,  complexions  that 
liked  me  and  breaths  that  I  defied  not:  and, 

20.  "If  I  were  a  tvontan'';  [he  part  of  Rosalind  was  of  course 
originally  taken  In-  a  boy -actor:  women's  parts  were  not  taken  by 
women  till  after  the  Restoration. — I.  G. 

133 


Epilogue  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 

I  am  sure,  as  many  as  have  good  beards  or 
good  faces  or  sweet  breaths  will,  for  my 
kind  offer,  when  I  make  curtsy,  bid  me  fare- 
well. [Exeuni 


134 


GLOSSARY 

By  Israel  Gollancz,  M.A. 


Abused,  deceived;  III.  v.  80. 
Accord,  consent;  V.  iv.  145. 
Address'd,      prepared;      V.      iv. 

168. 
All   at   once,   all   in    a   breath; 

III.  V.  36. 
Allottery,     allotment,     allotted 

share;  I.  i.  80. 
All    Points  =  at    all    points;    I. 

iii.  1-27. 
Amaze,  confuse;  I.  ii.  121. 
An,  if;  IV.  i.  34. 
Anatomize,  expose;  I.  i.  174. 
Answered,  satisfied;  II.  vii.  99. 
Antique,  ancient,  old;  II.  i.  31; 

II.  iii.  57. 

Any,  any  one;  I.  ii.  157. 

Argument,  reason;  I.  ii.  308. 

Arm's  end,  arm's  length;  II.  vi. 
11. 

As,  to  wit,  namely;  II.  i.  6. 

Assay'd,  attempted;  I.  iii.  140. 

Atalanta's  better  part;  vari- 
ously interpreted  as  referring  to 
Atalanta's  "swiftness,"  "beau- 
ty," "spiritual  part";  probably 
the  reference  is  to  her  beauti- 
ful form;  III.  ii.  160. 

Atomies,    motes    in    a    sunbeam; 

III.  ii.  254. 

Atone  together,  are  at  one;  V. 
iv.  122. 

Bandy,  contend;  V.  i.  63. 
Banquet,  dessert,  including  wine; 
II.  V.  65. 


Bar,  forbid;  V.  iv.  137;  "bars 
me,"  i.  e.  excludes  me  from;  I. 
i.  22. 

Batlet  =  little  bat,  used  by  laun- 
dresses; II.  iv.  52. 

Beholding,  beholden;   IV.  i.  66. 

Bestows  himself,  carries  him- 
self; IV.  iii.  89. 

Better,  greater;  III.  i.  2. 

Blood,  affection;  II.  iii.  37;  pas- 
sion; V.  iv.  59. 

Bob,  rap,  slap;  II.  vii.  55. 

Bonnet,  hat;  III.  ii.  411. 

Bottom,  "neighbor  b.,"  the 
neighboring  dell;  IV.  iii.  81. 

Bounds,  boundaries,  range  of 
pasture;  II.  iv.  90. 

Bow,  yoke;  III.  iii.  84. 

Bravery,  finery;  II.  vii.  80. 

Breathed;  "well  breathed,"  in 
full  display  of  my  strength;  I. 
ii.  242. 

Breather,  living  being;  III.  ii. 
306. 

Breed,  train  up,  educate;  I.  i.  4. 

Brief,  in-  brief;  IV.  iii.  157. 

Broke,  broken;  II.  iv.  41. 

Broken  music;  "Some  instru- 
ments such  as  viols,  violins, 
etc.,  were  formerly  made  in 
sets  of  four,  which,  when 
played  together,  formed  a  'con- 
sort.' If  one  or  more  of  the 
instruments  of  one  set  were 
substituted  for  the  correspond- 
ing   ones    of    another    set,    the 


135 


Glossary 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 


result  is  no  longer  a  'consort,' 
but  'broken  music' "  (Chap- 
pell)  ;  I.  ii.   158. 

Brutish,  animal  nature;  II.  vii. 
66. 

Buckles  in,  surrounds;  III.  ii. 
11.5. 

Bugle,  a  tube-shaped  bead  of 
black  glass;  III.  v,  47. 

Burden;  the  "burden"  of  a  song 
was  the  base,  foot,  or  under- 
song; III.  ii.  -271. 

Butchery,  slaughter-house;  II. 
iii.  27. 

Calling,   appellation;    I.   ii.   258. 

Capable,  sensible,  receivable;  III. 
V.  23. 

Capon  lined,  alluding  to  the  cus- 
tomary gifts  expected  by  Eli- 
zabethan magistrates,  "capon 
justices,"  as  they  were  occa- 
sionally called;  II.  vii,  154. 

Capricious,  used  with  a  play  up- 
on its  original  sense;  Ital.  cu- 
priccioso,  fantastical,  goatish; 
capra,  a  goat;  III.  iii.  8. 

Carlot,  little  churl,  rustic;  III. 
V.  108. 

Cast,  cast  oflF;  III.  iv.  15. 

Censure,  criticism;   IV".  i.  7. 

Change,  reversal  of  fortune;  I. 
iii.  112. 

Chanticleer,  the  cock;  II.  vii. 
30. 

Character,  write;  III,.ii.  6. 

Cheerly,  cheerily;   II.  vi.   15. 

Chopt,  chapped;  II.  iv.  53. 

Chroniclers  (Folio  1  "chrono- 
clers")  perhaps  used  for  the 
"jurymen,"  but  the  spelling  of 
Folio  1  suggests  "coroners"  for 
"chroniclers";  IV.  i.  113. 

Churlish,  miserly;   II.   iv.   87. 

Cicatrice,  a  mere  mark  (not  the 
scar  of  a  wound);  III.  iv.  23. 


CiTY-woMAN,  citizen's  wife;  II. 
vii,  75. 

Civil;  "c.  sayings,"  sober,  grave 
maxims,  perhaps  "polite";  III. 
ii.  141. 

Civility,  politeness;  II.  vii.  96. 

Clap  into  't,  to  begin  a  song 
briskly;  V.  iii.  11. 

Clubs,  the  weapon  used  by  the 
London  prentices,  for  the  pres- 
ervation of  the  public  peace, 
or  for  the  purposes  of  riot;  V. 
ii.  47. 

Cods,  strictly  the  husks  contain- 
ing the  peas;  perhaps  here 
used  for  "peas";  II.  iv.  55. 

Color,  nature,  kind;  I.  ii.  113-14. 

Combine,  bind;  V.  iv.  162. 

Come  off,  get  off;  I.  ii.  34. 

Comfort,  take  comfort;  II.  vi.  5. 

Commandment,  command;  II.  vii. 
109. 

Compact,  made  up,  composed;  II. 
vii.  5. 

Complexion;  "good  my  c,"  per- 
haps little  more  than  the  sim- 
ilar exclamation  "goodness 
me!"  or  "good  heart!"  possi- 
bly, however,  Rosalind  appeals 
to  her  complexion  not  to  be- 
tray  her;    III.   ii.   209. 

Conceit,  imagination;  II.  vi.  8; 
mental  capacity;  V.  ii.  62, 

Condition,  mood;  I.  ii.  293. 

Conduct,  leadership;   V.  iv.   169. 

C0N.NED,  learnt  bj^  heart;  III.  ii. 
298. 

Constant,  accustomed,  ordinary; 
III.  V.  123. 

Contents;  "if  truth  holds  true 
c."  i.  e.  "if  there  be  truth  in 
truth";  V.  iv.  142. 

Contriver,  plotter;  I.  i.  161. 

Conversed,  associated;  V.  ii.  70. 

CoN.VKRTiTES,  couvcrts ;  V.  iv.  197. 

Cony,  rabbit;  III.  ii.  368. 


136 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 


Glossary 


Cope,  engage  with;  II.  i.  67. 

Copulatives,  those  desiring  to  be 
united  in  marriage;  V,  iv.  58. 

Cote;  "cave7ine  de  hergier;  a 
shepherd's  cote;  a  little  cottage 
or  cabin  made  of  turfs,  straw, 
boughs,  or  leaves"  {Cotgrave)  ; 
II.  iv.  90. 

Could,  would  gladly;  I.  ii.  274. 

Countexance;  "his  countenance" 
probably  ="his  entertainment 
of  me,  the  style  of  living  which 
he  allows  me";  I.  i.  20. 

Counter,  worthless  wager;  orig- 
inally pieces  of  false  money 
used  as  a  means  of  reckoning; 
II.  vii.  63. 

Courtship,  court  life;  III.  ii.  375. 

Cousix,  niece;  I.  iii.  48. 

Cover,  set  the  table;  II.  v.  32. 

Cross,  used  equivocally  in  the 
sense  of  (1)  misfortune,  and 
(2)  money;  the  ancient  penny 
had  a  double  cross  with  a  crest 
stamped  on,  so  that  it  might 
easily  be  broken  into  four 
pieces;  II.  iv.  13. 

Crow,  laugh  heartily;  II.  vii.  30. 

Courti.e-axe,  a  short  sword;  I. 
iii.  128. 

Damnable,  worthy  of  condemna- 
tion; V.  ii.  72, 

Defied,  disliked;  Epil.  23. 

Desperate,  bold,  daring,  forbid- 
den; V.  iv.  32. 

Device,  aims,  ambitions;  I.  i.  187. 

Dial,  an  instrument  for  meas- 
uring time  in  which  the  hours 
were  marked;  a  small  portable 
sun-dial;  II.  vii.  20. 

Disable,  undervalue;  IV.  i.  37. 

Disabled,  disparaged ;  V.  iv.  82. 

Dishonest,  immodest;  V.  iii.  4. 

Dislike  =  express  dislike  of;  V. 
iv.  74. 


Disputable,  fond  of  disputing; 
II.  v.  36. 

Diverted,  diverted  from  its  nat- 
ural course;  II.  iii.  37. 

Dog-apes,  baboons;  II.  v.  27. 

Dole,  grief;  I.  ii.  146. 

DucDAME,  burden  of  Jaques' 
song,  variously  interpreted  by 
editors,  e.  g.  "due  ad  me,"  "hue 
ad  mef  probably,  however, 
the  word  is  an  ancient  refrain, 
of  Celtic  origin;  Halliwell 
notes  that  dus-adam-me-me  oc- 
curs in  a  MS.  of  Piers  Ploto- 
man,  where  ordinary  texts  read 
Hov),  trolly,  lolly  (C.  ix.  123); 
it  is  probably  a  survival  of 
some  old  British  game  like 
"I'om  Tidier,"  and  is  said  to 
mean  in  Gaelic  "this  land  is 
mine";  according  to  others  it 
is  a  Welsh  phrase  equivalent 
to  "come  to  me."  Judging  by 
all  the  evidence  on  the  sub- 
ject the  Gaelic  interpretation 
seems  to  be  most  plausible; 
n.  b.  1.  61,  "to  call  fools  into 
a  circle";  II.  v.  56. 

Dulcet  diseases,  [  ?  an  error  for 
"dulcet  discourses"]  perhap.s 
"sweet  mortifications,"  alluding 
to  such  proverbial  sayings  as 
"fool's  bolt  is  soon  shot,"  &c. ; 
V.  iv.  69. 

East,  eastern;  III.  ii.  98. 
Eat,  eaten;  II.  vii.  88. 
Effigies,  likeness;  II.  vii.   193. 
Enchantingly,    as    if    under    a 

spell;  I.  i.  187. 
Engage,  pledge;  V.  iv.  178. 
Entame,   bring   into   a   state   of 

tameness;  III.  v.  48. 
Entreated,  persuaded;  I.  ii.  1G7, 
Erring,  wandering;  III.  ii.  143. 
Estate,  bequeath,  settle;  V.  ii.  14. 


137 


Glossary 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 


Ethiope,  black  as  an  Ethiopian; 

IV.  iii.  36. 

Exempt,  remote;  II,  i.  15. 
Expediently,  expeditiously;   III. 

i.  18. 
ExTKXT,  seizure;  III.  i.  17. 
ExTKRMTNED,    exterminated;    III. 

V.  89. 

Fair,  beauty;  III.  ii.  105. 

Falls,  lets  fall;  III.  v.  5. 

Fancy,  love;  III.  v.  ^9. 

Fancy-monger,  love-monger;  III. 
ii.  394. 

Fantasy,  fancy;  II.  iv.  32. 

Favor,  aspect;  IV.  iii.  89;  coun- 
tenance; V.  iv.  27. 

Feature,  shape,  form;  used  per- 
haps equivocally,  but  with 
what  particular  force  is  not 
known;  "feature''  may  have 
been  used  occasionally  in  tlic 
sense  of  "verse-making"  {cp. 
Note);  III.  iii.  4. 

Feed,  pasturage;  II.  iv.  90. 

Feeder,  servant  ("facto)-"  and 
"fedary"  have  been  suggested)  ; 
II.  iv.  106. 

Feelingly,  by  making  itself  felt; 
II.  i.  11. 

Fells,  woolly  skins;  III.  ii.  57. 

Fleet,  make  to  fly;  I.  i.  130. 

Flout,  mock  at,  jeer  at;  I.  ii.  52. 

Fond,  foolish;  II.  iii.  7. 

For,  for  want  of;  II.  iv.  81;  II. 
vi.  2;  because;  III.  ii.  139;  as 
regards;  IV.  iii.  144. 

Forked  heads,  i.  e.  "fork-heads," 
which  Ascham  describes  in  his 
Toxophilus  as  being  "arrows 
having  two  points  stretching 
forward";  II.  i.  2i. 

Formal,  having  due  regard  to 
dignity;  II.  vii.  155. 

Fbee,  not  guilty;  II.  vii.  85. 


Freestone-color'd,  dark  colored, 
of  the  color  of  Bath-brick;  IV. 
iii.  26. 

Furnished,  apparelled;  Epilogue 
10. 

Gargantua's  mouth;  alluding  to 
"the  large-throated"  giant  of 
Rabelais,  who  swallowed  five 
pilgrims,  with  their  pilgrims' 
staves,  in  a  salad;  though  there 
was  no  English  translation  of 
Rabelais  in  Shakespeare's  time, 
yet  several  chap-book  histories 
of  Gargantua  were  published; 
III.  ii.  246. 

Gentility,  gentleness  of  birth ;  I. 
i.  24. 

Gesture,  bearing;  V.  ii.  73. 

Glances,  hits;  II.  vii.  57. 

God  buy  you  ="God  be  with 
you";  hence,  "good-bye";  111. 
ii.  282. 

God  'ii.d  You=:"God  yield  (re- 
ward) you";  III.  iii.  80. 

God  ye  good  even  =  God  give  you 
good  even  (often  represented 
by  some  such  form  as  "God- 
gigoden")  ;  V.  i.  16. 

Golden  world,  golden  age;  I.  i. 
131. 

"Good  wine  needs  no  bush";  al- 
luding to  the  bush  of  ivy  which 
was  usually  hung  out  at  Vint- 
ners' doors;  Epil.  3. 

Goths  (evidently  pronounced 
very  much  like  "goats,"  hence 
Touchstone's  joke) ;  the  Getae 
(or  Goths)  among  whom  Ovid 
lived  in  banishment;  III.  iii.  9. 

Grace,  gain  honor;  I.  i.  166. 

Grace  me,  get  me  credit,  good  re- 
pute; V.  ii.  68. 

Gracious,  looked  upon  with  fa- 
vor; I.  ii.  210, 


138 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 


Glossary 


Graff,  graft;  III.  ii.  UO. 
Gravelled,  stranded,  at  a  stand- 
still; IV.  i.  80. 

Harm,  misfortunes;  III.  ii.  83. 

Have  with  you,  come  along;  I. 
ii.  285. 

Having,  possession;    III.  ii.  409. 

He  =  man;  III.  ii.  430. 

Headed,  grown  to  a  heady  II.  vii. 
67. 

Heart,  affection,  love;  I.  i.  189. 

Here  much,  used  ironically,  in  a 
negative  sense,  as  in  the  mod- 
ern phrase  "much  I  care!";  IV. 
iii.  3. 

HiM:=:he  whom;  I.  i.  47. 

Hinds,  serfs,  servants;  I.  i.  22. 

Holla;  "cry  holla  to";  restrain; 
III.  ii.  267. 

Holy,  sacramental;  III.  iv.  14. 

Honest,  virtuous;  I.  ii.  44,  45. 

Hooping,  "out  of  all  hooping," 
beyond  the  bounds  of  wonder- 
ing; III.  ii.  208. 

Humorous,  full  of  whims,  capri- 
cious; I.  ii.  295;  II.  iii.  8;  fan- 
ciful; IV.  i.  22. 

Hurtling,  din,  tumult;  IV.  iii. 
136. 

Hyen,  hyena;  IV.  i.  168. 

Ill-favored,  ugly  in  face,  bad 
looking;  V.  iv.  60. 

Ill-favoredly,  ugly;  I.  ii.  45. 

Impressure,  impression;  III.  v. 
23. 

Incision;  "God  make  in."  i.  e. 
"give  thee  a  better  understand- 
ing"; a  reference  perhaps  to 
the  cure  by  blood-letting;  it 
was  said  of  a  very  silly  per- 
son that  he  ought  to  be  cut 
for  the  simples;  III.  ii.  78. 

Incontinent,  immediately;  V.  ii. 
44. 


Inquisition,  search,  inquiry;  II. 
ii.  20. 

Insinuate  with,  ingratiate  my- 
self with;  Epil.  10. 

Insomuch  =  in  as  much  as;  V. 
ii.  64. 

Intendment,  intention;  I.  i.  148. 

Invectively,  bitterly,  with  invec- 
tive; II.  i.  58. 

Irish  hat;  Irish  witches  were 
said  to  be  able  to  rime  either 
man  or  beast  to  death;  be- 
rimed rats  are  frequently  al- 
luded to  in  Elizabethani  wri- 
ters; III.  ii.  192. 

Irks,  grieves;  II.  i.  2^. 

Jars,  discordant  sounds;  II.  vii.  5. 

JuDAs's;  "browner  than  J."^  he 
was  usually  represented  in  an- 
cient painting  or  tapestry  with 
red  hair  and  beard;  III.  iv.  8. 

Juno's  swans,  probably  an  error 
for  Venus,  represented  as 
swan-drawn  in  Ovid  (Meta.  x. 
708)  ;  I.  iii.  83. 

Just,  just  so;  III.  ii.  290. 

Justly,  exactly;  I.  ii.  270. 

Kind,  nature;  IV.  iii.  60. 
Kindle,    enkindle,    incite;    I.    i. 

193. 
Kindled,     brought     forth;     used 

technically  for  the  littering  of 

rabbits;  III.  ii.  369. 
Knoll'd,  chimed;  II.  vii.  114. 

Lack,  do  without;  IV.  i.  194. 

Leahn,  teach;  I.  ii.  6. 

Leave,  permission;  I.  i.  114;  I.  ii. 

174. 
Leer,  countenance;  IV.  i.  73. 
Lief,  gladly;  I.  i.  163;  III.  ii.  279. 
Limn'd,  drawn;  II.  vii.  194. 
Lined,  drawn;   III.  ii.   102. 
Lively  =  life-like;  V.  iv.  27, 


139 


Glossary 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 


Loose,  let  loose;  III.  v.  103. 
Lover,  mistress;   IIL  iv.   46. 

Make  =  make   fast,  shut;   IV.   1. 

174. 
Manage,  training  or  breaking  in 

of  a  horse;  I.  i.  14. 
Maknish,  male;  I.  iii.  13:3. 
Matter,   sound   sense;   II.   i.   68; 

sense,  meaning;  V.  iii.  36. 
Measure,   a   court   dance;   V.   iv. 

45. 
Meed,  reward;  II.  iii.  58. 
Memory,  memorial;   II.  iii.  3. 
Might,  may;  I.  ii.  ;?03. 
Mines,  undermines;  I.  i.  23. 
Misprised,  despised,  thought  noth- 
ing of;  L  i.  191;  I.  ii.  201. 
MocKABLE,  liable  to  ridicule;  III. 

ii.  51. 
Mocks,  mockeries;  III.  v.  33. 
Modern,  commonplace,  ordinary; 

II.  vii.  156;  IV.  i.  7. 
Moe,  more;  III.  ii.  286. 
Moonish,  variable,  fickle;  III.  11. 

445. 
Moral,  probably  an  adjective, 

moralizing;  II.  vii.  29. 
Moralize,  discourse,  expound;  II. 

i.  44. 
Mortal,     "mortal     in     folly";     a 

quibble   of   doubtful   meaning; 

perhaps  ^"excessive,  very,"  i.  e. 

"extremely  foolish"   (  ?  =  likely 

to  succumb  to  folly) ;  II.  iv.  60. 
Motley,    the   parti-colored    dress 

of    domestic    fools    or    jesters; 

II.  vii.  34;   (used  adjectively) ; 

II.  vu.  13;  fool;  III.  iii.  83. 
Mutton,  sheep;  III.  ii.  59. 

Napkin,  handkerchief;  IV.  iii.  96. 
Natural,  idiot;  I.  ii.  56. 
Nature,   "of   such    a   nature," 

whose  special   duty  it   is;   III. 

i.  16. 


Nature's  sale- work  =  ready- 
made  goods;  III.  V.  43. 

Naught;  "be  n.  awhile,"  a  pro- 
verbial expression  equivalent  to 
"a  mischief  on  you";  I.  i.  40. 

Needless,  not  needing;   II.  i.  46. 

New-fangled,  fond  of  what  is 
new;  IV.  i.  164. 

Nice,  trifling;  IV.  i.  16. 

Nurture,  good  manners,  breed- 
ing; II.  vii.  97. 

Observance,  attention;  III.  ii. 
257;  reverence,  respect;  V.  ii. 
106-108;  (the  repetition  is 
probably  due  to  the  composi- 
tor; "endurance,"  "obedience," 
"descrvance,"  have  been  sug- 
gested for  line  108). 

Occasion  ;  "her  husband's  o."= 
an  opportunity  for  getting  the 
better  of  her  husband;  IV.  i. 
189. 

Of,  "searching  of"=  a-searching 
of;  II.  iv.  45;  "complain  of," 
i.  e.  of  the  want  of;  III.  ii.  32; 
by;  III.  ii.  372;  IIL  iii.  96. 

Offer'st  fairly,  dost  contribute 
largely;  V.  iv.  180. 

Oliver;  "O  sweet  O."  the  frag- 
ment of  an  old  ballad;  IIL  Iii. 
104. 

Painted  cloth,  canvas  painted 
with  figures,  mottoes,  or  moral 
sentences,  used  for  hangings 
for  rooms;  III.  ii.  299. 

Pantaloon,  a  standing  character 
in  the  old  Italian  comedy;  he 
wore  slippers,  spectacles,  and  a 
pouch,  and  invariably  repre- 
sented as  an  old  dotard;  taken 
typically  for  a  Venetian;  St. 
Pantaleon  was  the  patron  saint 
of  Venice;  II.  vii.  158. 

Parcels,  detail;  III.  v.  125, 


no 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 


Glossary 


Pabd,  leopard;  II.  vii.  1,50. 

Parlous,  perilous;  III.  ii.  46. 

Passing,  surpassing,  exceedingly; 
III.  V.  138. 

Pathetical,  probably  "affection- 
moving,"  perhaps  used  with  the 
force  of  "pitiful";  IV.  i.  :^08. 

Payment,  punishment;  I.  i.  179. 

Peascod,  literally  the  husk  or  pod 
which  contains  the  jjeas,  used 
for  the  plant  itself;  "our  an- 
cestors were  frequently  accus- 
tomed in  their  love-affairs  to 
employ  the  divination  of  a 
peascod,  and  if  the  good  omen 
of  the  peas  remaining  in  the 
husk  were  preserved,  they  pre- 
sented it  to  the  lady  of  their 
choice";  II.  iv.  54. 

Peevish,  wayward,  saucy)  III.  v. 
110. 

Perpend,  reflect;  III.  ii.  72. 

Petitionary,  imploring;  III.  ii. 
204. 

Ph(i;nix;  "as  rare  as  p.";  the 
phoenix,  according  to  Seneca, 
was  born  once  only  in  500 
years;  IV.  iii.  18. 

Place  =  dwelling-place ;  II.  iii. 
27. 

Places,  topics,  subjects;  II.  viii. 
40. 

Point-device,  i.  e.  at  point  de- 
vice, trim,  faultless;  III.  ii. 
415. 

Poke,  pocket;  II.  vii.  20. 

Pooh;  "p.  a  thousand  crowns," 
the  adjective  precedes  the  arti- 
cle for  the  sake  of  emphasis, 
and  probably  also  because  of 
the  substantival  force  of  the 
whole  expression  "a  thousand 
crowns";  I.  i.  3. 

Portugal;  "bay  of  P."  "still  used 
by  sailors  to  denote  that  por- 
tion of  the  sea  off  the  coast  of 


P.  from  Oporto  to  the  head- 
land of  Cintra";  IV.  i.  228. 

Practice,  plot,  scheme;  I.  i.  167. 

Practices,  plots,  schemes;  II.  iii. 
M. 

Present,  being  present;  III.  i.  4. 

Presentation,  representation;  V. 
iv.  118. 

Presently,  immediately;  II.  vi. 
11. 

Prevents,  antuipates;  IV.  i.  67. 

Prizer,  prize-figiiter;  II.  iii.  8. 

Private,    particular,    individual; 

II.  vii.  7. 

Prodigal;  "what  p.  portion  have 
I  spent,"  i.  e.  "what  portion 
have  I  prodigally  spent";  I.  i. 
142. 

Profit,  proficiency;  I.  i.  7. 

Prologues;  "the  only  p.,"  t,  e. 
only  the  p.;  V.  iii.  13. 

Proper,  handsome;  I.  ii.  136. 

Propeker,  more  handsome;  III. 
V.  51. 

PuisNY,  unskilled,  inferior;  III. 
iv.  47. 

PuLPiTER  (Spedding's  emenda- 
tion for  "Jupiter,"  the  reading 
of  the  Folios) ;  III.  ii.  168. 

Purchase,  acquire;  III.  ii.  371. 

Purgation,  vindication;  I.  iii.  61; 
proof,  test;  V.  iv.  45. 

Purlieus,  the  grounds  on  the  bor- 
ders of  the  forest;  IV.  iii.  79. 

Pythagoras'  time,  an  allusion  to 
that  philosopher's  doctrine  of 
the    transmigration    of    souls; 

III.  ii.  192. 

Quail,  slacken;  II.  ii.  20. 

Question,  conversation;  III.  iv. 
38. 

Quintain,  a  figure  set  up  for 
tilting  at  in  country  games, 
generally  in  the  likeness  of  a 
Turk    or    Saracen,    bearing    a 


111 


Glossary 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 


shield  upon  his  left  arm,  and 
brandishing  a  dub  with  his 
right,  which  moved  round  and 
struck  a  severe  blow  if  the 
horseman  made  a  bad  aim;  I. 
ii.  279. 

Quintessence,  tlie  extract  from 
a  thing,  containing  its  virtues 
in  a  small  quantity;  originally, 
in  medieval  philosophy,  the 
fifth  essence,  or  spirit,  or  soul 
of  the  world,  which  consisted 
not  of  the  four  elements,  but 
was  a  certain  fifth,  a  thing 
above  or  beside  them;  III.  ii. 
152. 

Quip,  a  smart  saying;  V.  iv.  80. 

Quit,  acquit;  III.  i.  11. 

Quotidian,  a  fever,  the  parox- 
ysms of  which  return  every 
day,  expressly  mentioned  in 
old  writers  as  a  symptom  of 
love;  III.  ii.  396. 

Ragged,  rough,  untuneful;  II.  v. 
15. 

Rank,  row,  line;  IV.  iii.  82; 
"butter-women's  rank"  ["rate," 
"rack,"  "rant  (at),"  "canter," 
have  been  proposed]^  file,  or- 
der, jog-trot;  III.  ii.  108. 

Rankness,  presumption;  I.  i.  96. 

Rascal,  technical  term  for  lean 
deer;  III.  iii.  61. 

Raw,  ignorant,  inexperienced ; 
III.  ii.  79. 

Reason,  talk,  converse;  I.  ii.  59. 

Recks,  cares;  II.  iv.  88. 

Recountments,  things  recounted, 
narrations;  IV.  iii.  147. 

Recover'd,  restored;  IV.  iii.  157. 

Religious,  belonging  to  some  re- 
ligious order;  III.  ii.  373. 

Remembuaxce,  memory;  I.  i.  70. 

Remorse,  compassion;  I.  iii.  78. 

Removed,  remote;  III.  ii.  371. 


Render,  describe;  IV.  iii.  126. 
Resolve,  solve;  III.  ii.  254. 
Reverence;   "his   reverence,"  the 

respect  due  to  him;  I.  i.  56. 
Right,    downright;    III.   ii.    108; 

true;  III.  ii.  133. 
Ripe,  grown  up;  IV.  iii.  90. 
Roundly,  without  delay;   V.  iii. 

11. 
RoYNiSH,  rude,  uncouth;  II.  ii.  8. 

Sad,  serious;  III.  ii.  161. 

Sad  brow,  serious  face;  III.  ii. 
234. 

Saws,  maxims;  II.  vii.  156. 

School,  (probably)  university;  I. 
i.  6. 

Scrip,  shepherd's  pouch;  III.  ii. 
176. 

Seeks  (used  instead  of  the  sin- 
gular) ;  V.  i.  70. 

Seeming,  seemly;  V.  iv.  73. 

Se'nnight  =  seven-night,  a  week; 

II.  ii.  334. 
Sententious,  pithy;  V.  iv.  67. 
Shadow,  shady  place;  IV.  i.  238. 
Shall,  must;  I.  i.  141. 

She,  woman;  III.  ii.  10. 

Sheaf,  gather  into  sheaves;  III. 
ii.  118. 

Should  be,  came  to  be,  was  said 
to  be;  III.  ii.  187. 

SHOuLDST=:wouldst;  I.  ii.  252. 

Show,  appear;  I.  iii.  89. 

Shrewd,  evil,  harsh;  V.  iv.  186. 

Simples,  herbs  used  in  medicine; 
IV.  i.  18. 

Sir,  a  title  bestowed  on  the  in- 
ferior clerg)',  hence  Sir  Oliver 
Mar-text,  the  country  curate; 
probably  a  translation  of 
"Dominus,"  still  applied  to 
"Bachelors"  at  the  University; 

III.  iii.  44. 

Smirch,  besmear,  darken;  I.  iii. 
122. 


142 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 


Glossary 


Smother;  "from  the  smoke  into 
the      s.";      thick      suffocating 
smoke;  I.  ii.  316. 
Snake,  used  as  a  term  of  scorn; 

IV.  iii.  Ti2. 
So,  if,  provided  that;  I.  ii.  12. 
Sorts,  kinds,  classes;  I.  i.  187. 
South-sea  of  discovery,  a  voyage 
of  discovery  over  a  wide  and 
unknown     ocean;     the     whole 
phrase    is    taken    by    some    to 
mean    that    a    minute's    delay 
will    bring   so   many    questions 
that  to  answer  them  all  will  be 
like     a    voyage    of    discovery. 
Perhaps    the    reference    is    to 
Rosalind's  discovery  of  her  se- 
cret,  of   the   truth   about   her- 
self; III.  ii.  212. 

Speed,  patron;  I.  ii.  223. 

Spleen,  passion;  IV.  i.  233. 

Squandering,  random;  II.  vii.  57. 

Stagger,  hesitate;  III.  iii.  51. 

Stay,  wait  for;  III.  ii.  227. 

Sticks,  strikes,  stabs;   I.  ii.  268. 

Still,  continually;  I.  ii.  251. 

Still  music,  i.  e.  soft,  low,  gentle 
music;  V.  iv.  119. 

Straight  =  straightway,      imme- 
diately; III.  v.  136. 

Successfully,  likely   to  succeed; 
I.  ii.  170. 

Suddenly,  quickly,  speedily;   II. 
ii.  19. 

Suit,  used  quibblingly,   (1)   peti- 
tion, (2)  dress;  II.  vii.  44. 

Suits  =  favors   (with  a  play  up- 
on "suit,"  "livery") ;  I.  ii.  272. 

Sun,  "to  live  i'  the  s."  t.  e.  to  live 
in  open-air  freedom;  II.  v.  41. 

Sure,  firmly  joined;  V.  iv.  147, 

Swashing,  swaggering;  I.  iii.  131. 

Swift,  keen  of  wit ;  V.  iv.  66. 

Ta'en  up,  made  up;  V.  iv.  50. 
Taxation,   censure,   satire;   I.   ii. 
95. 


Tempered,  composed,  blended;  I. 

ii.  16. 
Thatched  house,  alluding  to  the 
story  of  Baucis  and  Philemon; 
III.  iii.  11. 

That  that  =  that  which;  V.  iv. 
62. 

Thought,  melancholy;  or  per- 
haps "moody  reflection";  IV.  i. 
232. 

Thrasonical,  boastful  (from 
Thraso  the  boaster,  in  the  Eu- 
niichus  of  Terence)  ;  V.  ii.  35. 

Thrice-crowned  Queen,  ruling 
in  heaven,  earth,  and  the  under- 
world, as  Luna,  Diana,  and 
Hecate;  III.  ii.  2. 

Thrifty;  "the  th.  hire  I  saved," 
i.  e.  "that  which  by  my  thrift 
I  saved  out  of  the  hire";  II. 
iii.  39. 

To,  as  to;  II.  iii.  7. 

Touches,  characteristics;  III.  ii. 
165. 

Toward,  at  hand;  V.  iv.  35. 

Toy,  bagatelle,  trifling  affair; 
III.  iii.  81. 

Traverse,  crossways;  III.  iv,  45. 

Trow  you,  know  you;  III.  ii.  194. 

Turn'd  into,  brought  into;  IV. 
iii,  24. 

Umber,  brown  pigment,  brought 
from  Umbria;  I.  iii.  122. 

Uncouth,  unknown,  strange;  II. 
vi.  6, 

Unexpressive,  inexpressive,  un- 
able to  be  expressed;  III.  ii.  10. 

Unkind,  unnatural;   II.  vii,   175. 

Unquestionable,  unwilling  to  be 
conversed  with;  III.  ii.  407. 

Unto,  in  addition  to;  I.  ii.  263, 

Untuneable  (Theobald  and 
other  editors  "untimeable,"  cp. 
the  page's  reply),  out  of  tune, 
perhaps  also  "out  of  time";  V. 
iii.  37. 


143 


Glossary 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 


Ui';  "kill  them  up";  used  as  an 
intensive  partiele;   II.  i.  fix?. 

Velvet,  delicate  ("velvet"  is  the 
technical  term  for  the  outer 
covering  of  the  horns  of  a 
stag  in  the  early  stages  of 
its  growth);  II.  i.  50. 

Vengeance,  mischief;  IV.  iii.  49. 

Villain,  bondman,  serf;  with 
play  upon  the  other  sense;  I. 
i.  fil. 

Voice,  "in  my  voice,"  i,  e.  as  far 
us  my  vote  is  concerned;  II.  iv. 
94. 

Ware,  aware;  II.  iv.  61;  cau- 
tious; II.  iv.  62. 

Warp,  turn,  change  the  aspect 
of,  twist  out  of  shape;  II.  vii. 
187. 

Ways;  "come  your  ways"=come 
on;  I.  ii.  231, 

Weak  evils,  evils  which  cause 
weakness;  II.  vii.  132. 

Weak,  fashion;  II.  vii.  34. 

Wearing,  wearying;  II.  iv.  38. 


Week,  an  indefinite  period  of 
time,  perhaps  =::"in  the  week," 
cp.  the  phrase  "too  late  in  the 
day";  II.  iii.  74. 

Wherein  went  he,  how  was  he 
dressed?  III.  ii.  241. 

Where  you  are^ what  you 
mean;  V.  ii.  33. 

Wit,  whither  wilt;  an  exclama- 
tion of  somewhat  obscure  mean- 
ing, used  evidently  when  any- 
one was  either  talking  non- 
sense or  usurping  a  greater 
share  in  conversation  than 
justly  belonged  to  him;  IV.  i. 
179;  cp.  "Wit!  whither  wander 
you";  I.  ii.  63. 

Woeful,  expressive  of  woe;  II. 
vii.  148. 

Woman  of  the  world,  ».  e,  mar- 
ried; V.  iii.  5. 

Working,  endeavor;  I.  ii.  225. 

Wrath,  passion,  ardor;  V.  ii.  46. 

Wrestler  (trisyllabic)  ;  II.  ii.  13. 

You  =  for  you;  II.  v.  34. 
Young,  inexperienced;  I,  i.  59. 


1144 


STUDY  QUESTIONS 

By  Anxe  Throop  Craig 

GENERAL 

1.  When  was  this  play  probably  written? 

2.  What  two  sources  for  this  play  have  been  named? 
'^I'ell  the  stories  of  them. 

3.  Comment  on  tlie  characteristics  and  quality  of  the 
play. 

4.  What  do  the  peculiar  setting  and  circumstances  re- 
veal of  the  nature  of  the  persons  of  the  drama?     Why? 

5.  What  character,  or  characters,  are  most  striking? 

6.  Describe  and  contrast  the  characters. 

7.  Outline  the  play.  What  is  its  general  scope  and 
drift? 

8.  Compare  the  quality  of  comedy  in  this  play  with 
other  degrees  of  comedy,  and  describe  the  general  im- 
pression of  the  play  as  a  whole,  distinguishing  its  pecu- 
liar atmosphere. 

ACT   I 

9.  Does  the  bearing  of  Orlando  in  the  first  scene  dis- 
tinctively set  forth  his  character?  What  constitutes  its 
charm  and  quality? 

10.  To  which  Duke  does  Charles  the  Wrestler  refer  in 
line  118,  scene  i? 

11.  In  what  lines  does  Oliver  describe  his  brother? 
What  is  Coleridge's  comment  upon  this  speech? 

12.  Describe  the  setting  forth  of  the  characters  of 
Rosalind  and  Celia  in  scene  ii. 

13.  Where  had  Touchstone's  anecdote  in  line  70,  scene 
ii,  made  a  previous  appearance? 

XVIII-10  ^lii, 


study  Questions  AS   YOU   LIKE    IT 

14.  Whv  was  it  not  disrespect  for  a  Fool  to  speak  as 
Touchstone  does,  in  line  88,  scene  ii?  Is  there  a  possi- 
bility of  Touchstone's  referring  to  Rosalind's  father  in- 
stead of  to  Celia's?  What  are  the  critical  suggestions 
with  regard  to  this  point? 

15.  In  Lodge's  Rosalynde  what  is  the  reception  the  king 
gives  the  young  unknown  wrestler,  Rosader? 

16.  How  does  Celia's  spirit  compare  with  her  father's? 

17.  What  points  in  Rosalind's  character  does  she  show 
upon  the  occasion  of  the  Duke's  cruelty  to  her? 

18.  What  is  the  dramatic  quality'  of  the  scene  when  the 
two  cousins  decide  to  seek  the  Duke  in  the  forest  of  Arden? 


ACT    II 

19.  What  romantic  incident  in  the  history  of  outlawry 
helped  to  give  a  vogue  among  poets  and  writers  to  such 
situations  as  that  presented  in  the  Forest  of  Arden? 

20.  Who  voices  an  idealization  of  life  near  to  nature  by 
comparison  with  formal  life?  Does  this  spirit  prevail  in 
the  play? 

21.  What  is  the  dramatic  significance  of  Old  Adam's 
role?  of  what  is  his  character  a  t^'pe?  does  Orlando  char- 
acterize him? 

22.  What  spirit  characterizes  the  scene  of  the  three  trav- 
elers' entry  into  the  Forest  of  Arden? 

23.  What  is  the  dramatic  purpose  in  the  introduction  of 
the  love-sick  Sylvius  in  scene  iv? 

24.  Is  it  possible,  judging  from  general  knowledge  of 
the  ancient  Court  Fool,  and  peculiarly  of  Touchstone,  in 
this  instance,  that  he  is  throughout  more  "ware"  of  his 
wisdom  than  Rosalind  suggests  his  being  in  line  59, 
scene  iv? 

25.  What  impression  does  Jaques  make  at  his  first  in- 
troduction ? 

26.  Is  there  any  inconsistency  in  the  adventures  of  Rosa- 
lind and  Celia?      If  so,  specif}'  the  incidents. 

27.  Compare   the   Duke's   comments   upon   Jaques   with 

116 


AS    YOU    LIKE    IT  Study  Questions 

the  latter's  upon  him.  What  inference  is  to  be  drawn  from 
such  a  comparison  as  to  the  Duke's  appreciation  of  a 
character  like  Jaques?  Is  the  Duke  of  a  type  to  be  in 
sympathy  with  a  fellow  like  Jaques? 

28.  What  play  of  Ben  Jonson's  has  a  character  some- 
what like  Jaques?  Whom  did  Jonson  personate  by  it? 
Are  there  any  evidences  that  Shakespeare  had  Jonson  him- 
self, or  at  least  passages  in  his  play  in  mind,  in  creating 
Jacques  ? 

29.  What  striking  and  much  quoted  lines  are  spoken  by 
Jacques  in  scene  vii? 

ACT    HI 

30.  Comment  on  Touchstone's  reflections  on  rural  life. 

31.  Point  out  what  is  particularly  and  amusingly  fem- 
inine and  charming  in  the  talk  between  Celia  and  Rosalind 
in  scene  ii. 

32.  In  addition  to  its  being  a  diversion  to  Orlando  in  his 
love-sick  state,  to  fall  in  with  the  fanciful  suggestion  of 
the  supposed  shepherd  boy,  is  it  likely  that  the  fascina- 
tion of  the  real  Rosalind  through  the  disguise  drew  him 
unconsciously? 

33.  What  mythical  allusion  explains  Jacques'  "aside" — 
in  line  11,  scene  iii? 

34.  What  genuine  qualities  in  Touchstone  are  displayed'  // 
in  scene  iii? 

35.  Point  out  the  dainty  touches  of  realism  in  scene  iv 
between  Rosalind  and  Celia. 

36.  Why  is  the  introduction  of  the  scene  between  Sylvius 
and  Phebe  a  skillful  dramatic  effect? 

37.  What  are  the  distinctions  between  Audrey  and 
Phebe?  Characterize  the  differences  between  Phebe  and 
the  two  friends  Rosalind  and  Celia?  Analyze  the  dramatic 
means  by  which  these  differences  are  made  apparent. 

38.  How  does  Phebe  betray  that  slic  has  fallen  in  love 
with  Rosalind  as  a  shepherd  bo}? 

39.  Characterize  Phebe's  request  to  Sylvius  to  take  the 
letter  she  is  to  write  to  Rosalind. 

117 


study  Questions  AS    YOU    LIKE    IT 

ACT    IV 

40.  Explain  Rosalind's  parting  shaft  at  Jacques  in 
scene  i. 

41.  Comment  on  the  passage  between  Orlando  and  Rosa- 
lind in  scene  i.  Characterize  its  quality.  By  what  means 
does  it  reveal  an  undercurrent  of  Rosalind's  true  feeling 
toward  Orlando  .f* 

42.  What  touch  does  Celia  give  to  the  end  of  scene  i.^* 

43.  What  is  the  poetical  effect  of  the  scene  Oliver  de- 
scribes in  recounting  how  Orlando  found  him.'' 

44.  What  does  Oliver  mean  with  regard  to  Orlando's 
deed  to  him  in  line  130.'' 

45.  Does  Oliver  penetrate  Rosalind's  disguise  when  she 
faints  ? 

ACT    v 

46.  What  is  the  dramatic  purpose  of  William's  intro- 
duction.'' 

47.  What  principle  of  Shakespeare's  process  of  romance 
is  exhibited  in  the  marriage  of  Cclia  and  Oliver.? 

48.  Comment  on  the  ready  expedients  of  Rosalind  for 
every  situation,  as  her  invention  of  the  magician  tale.''  In 
what  way  docs  this  compound  with  and  assist  the  whole  at- 
mosphere of  the  play  ? 

49.  How  does  line  118,  scene  ii,  express  Rosalind's  mood 
as  contrasted  with  the  others  who  are  losing  themselves  in 
their  sentiments.''     Is  her  expression  characteristic  of  her.'' 

50.  In  Lodge's  novel  what  happens  to  the  usurper.'' 

51.  Is  the  final  decision  of  Jaques  to  remain  in  the  for- 
est with  the  converted  usurper,  appropriate  to  his  charac- 
ter and  action?     If  so,  why? 

52.  What  very  lovable  character  is  entirely  omitted  from 
the  latter  part  of  the  play? 

53.  Explain  the  phrase  in  the  Epilogue,  "If  I  were  a 
woman." 


U8 


MUCH  ADO  ABOUT  NOTHING 


1 


All  the  unsigned  footnotes  in  this  volume  are  by  the 
writer  of  the  article  to  which  they  are  appended.  The  in- 
terpretation of  the  initials  signed  to  the  others  is :  I.  G. 
=:  Israel  Gollancz,  M.A. ;  H.  N.  H.=  Henry  Norman 
Hudson,  A.M.;  C.  H.  H.=  C.  H.  Herford,  Litt.D. 


PREFACE 

By  Israel  Gollancz,  M.A. 

THE    EDITIOJJS 

A  quarto  edition  of  Much  Ado  About  Nothing  was  pub- 
lished in  1600  with  the  following  title-page: — "Much 
Adoe  About  Nothing  as  it  hath  been'  sundrie  times  pub- 
likely  acted  by  the  right  honourable  the  Lord  Chamberlain 
his  servants  Written  by  William  Shakespeare.  London." 
(It  had  previously  been  entered  on  the  Stationers'  Regis- 
ter, August  23,  1600.)  No  other  edition  is  kq^wn  to  have 
been  published  previous  to  the  publication  of  the  First 
Folio,  1623;  the  play  was  evidently  printed  from  a  copy 
of  a  Quarto  in  the  possession  of  the  Theater,  or  of  the 
original  MS.,  corrected  for  the  purposes  of  the  Stage. 
(Cp.  Facsimile  Quarto  Edition,  ed.  by  ]Mr.  Daniel.) 
There  are  many  minor  variations  between  the  Quarto  and 
the  First  Folio,  but  most  of  them  seem  due  to  the  printer's 
carelessness. 

DATE    OF    COMPOSITION 

As  the  play  is  not  mentioned  by  Meres,  in  1598,  and 
was  printed  in  1600,  it  may  be  safely  assigned  to  the  year 
1599,  in  support  of  which  date  the  following  points  are 
noteworthy: — (1)  Probable  allusion  in  the  opening  scene 
to  a  circumstance  attending  the  campaign  of  the  Earl  of 
Essex  in  Ireland,  during  the  summer  of  1599:  (2)  the  char- 
acter of  "Amorphus,  or  the  one  Deformed,"  in  Cynthia's 
Revels,  1600,  may  be  compared  with  "the  one  Defonned, 
a  vile  thief  this  seven  year"  (cp.  Ill,  iii,  133-5,  182, 
185)  ;  (3)  the  instructions  which  Dogberry  and  Verges 
give  to  the  night-watch  may   possibly  be  intended  as  a 


Preface  MUCH   ADO 


burlesque  on   The  Statutes   of  the  Streets^   imprinted  by 
Wolfe,  in  1595. 


r 


SOURCE    OF    PLOT 


The   incident  of  the   interrupted  marriage   is   identical 
J  with  the  story  of  Ariodante  and  Ginevra  in  Ariosto's  Or- 
Jlando    Furioso,    canto    v;    this    had   been    translated    into 
/  English  by  Beverly  in  1565,  and  by  Harrington  in  1591. 
\  The  story  was  dramatized  before  1582,  and  was  rendered 
into    English   verse   by   George   Turbervile.     Later   on   it 
found  a  place  in  Spenser's  Fairy  Queen,  Book  ii,  Canto  iv. 
^  Shakespeare  may,  however,  have  derived  his  story  from 
i;  Belief o rest's  translation  in  his  Histoires  Tragiques  of  Ban- 
dello's  22nd  Novella.     It  is  noteworthy  that  about  the  same 
time  the  German  Dramatist,  Jacob  Ayrer,  founded  his  play 
Beautiful  Phoenicia  upon  the  same  tale,  and  the  English 
and    Gern#n   plays   have    certain    points    of   resemblance. ' 
Possibly  they  were  both  indebted  to  a  lost  original  {cp. 
Cohn's  Shakespeare  in  Germany).     Dr.  Ward  sums  up  the 
evidence  as  follows : — "As  the  date  of  Ayrer's  piece  is  not 
known — it  may  have  been  written  before  or  after  1600 — 
and  as  that  of  Shakspere's  is  similarly  uncertain,  it  is  im- 
possible to  decide  as  to  their  relative  priority.     That,  how- 
ever, Ayrer  did  not  copy  from  Shakspere  seems,  as  Sim- 
rock  points  out,  clear  from  the  names  of  the  characters  in 
his    play,    which    follow    Bandello,    while    Shakspere    has 
changed  all  the  names  except  those  of  Don  Pedro  and  old 
Leonato." 

GENERAL    CHARACTERISTICS 

The  mixture  of  tragedy  and  comedy  in  this  play  is  so 
perfectly  blended  that  it  may  well  be  regarded  as  the  cul- 
minating point  of  Shakespeare's  second  period  of  activ- 
ity, the  period  to  which  belongs  Twelfth  Night,  As  You 
Like  It,  and  The  Merry  Wives;  the  metrical  tests  actually 
place  it  last  in  this  group.  Beatrice  and  Benedick  should 
be  compared  with  their  prototypes  Rosaline  and  Biron, 
and  Dogberry  and  his  comrades  should  be  contrasted  with 


ABOUT   NOTHING  Preface 

the  earlier  clowns,  in  order  to  understand  the  advance  which 
this  play  marks  in  Shakespeare's  career.  "Perhaps,"  says 
Hazlitt,  "the  middle  point  of  comedy  was  never  more  nicely 
hit,  in  which  the  ludicrous  blends  with  the  tender,  and  our 
follies,  turning  round  against  themselves,  in  support  of  our 
affections,  retain  nothing  but  their  humanity." 

liATER    VERSIONS    OF    THE    PLAY 

Two  plays  were  founded  upon  Much  Ado  About  Noth- 
ing— ( 1 )  Davenant's  Law  against  Lovers,  which  Pepys 
saw  on  February  18,  1661,  and  (2)  The  Universal  Passion, 
by  Rev.  James  Miller,  1737. 

DURATION    OF    ACTION 

For  a  detailed  study  of  the  "time"  of  the  play  the  reader 
is  referred  to  Mr.  Daniel's  "Time-Analysis,"  Trans,  of 
New  Shaks.  Soc.  1877-79,  p.  144.  He  believes  that  just 
as  the  Prince  forgets  his  determination  to  stay  "at  least 
a  month"  at  Messina,  so  the  "just  seven-night"  to  the  wed- 
ding was  also  either  forgotten  or  intentionally  set  aside, 
and  that  only  four  consecutive  days  are  actually  includedJij 
the  action  of  the  drama — 


I 


1.  Act  I,  and  Act  II,  i  and  ii. 

2.  Act  II,  iii,  and  Act  III,  i-iii. 
^^3.   Act  III,  iv  and  v ;  Act  IV ;  Act  V,  i,  ii,  and  part  of  iii. 
V  4.  Act  V,  part  of  iii,  and  iv. 


IX 


INTRODUCTION 

By  Henry  Norman  Hudson,  A.M. 

The  earliest  notice  that  has  reached  us  of  Much  Ado 
about  Nothing  is  an  entry  in  the  books  of  the  Stationers' 
Company,  bearing^date^August^  1600,  and  running  thus: 

"As  You  Like  It,  a  book.  1 

"Henry  the  Fifth,  a  book.  ^^  ^^  ^^  „ 

"Every  Man  in  his  Humour,  a  book.  -^ 

*'Much  Ado  about  Nothing,  a  book.  , 

Why  these  plays  were  thus  entered  and  the  publication 
stayed,  cannot  be  certainly  determined:  probably  it  was 
to  protect  the  authorized  publishers  and  the  public  against 
those  "stolen  and  surreptitious  copies"  which  the  editors 
of  the  folio  allege  to  have  been  put  forth.  In  the  same 
Register,  under  the  date  of  August  23,  1600,  the  follow- 
ing entry  was  made  by  Andrew  Wise  and  William  Apsley: 
"Two  books,  the  one  called  Much  Ado  about  Nothing,  and 
the  other  The  Second  Part  of  the  History  of  King  Henry 
the  IV,  with  the  Humours  of  Sir  John  FalstafF:  Written 
by  Mr.  Shakespeare."  This  entry  was  for  publication ; 
which  may  infer  that  the  stay  of  August  4  had  been  re- 
voked by  the  23d  of  the  same  month.  In  the  course  of 
the  same  year  a  quarto  pamphlet  of  thirty-six  leaves  was 
published,  with  a  title-page  reading  as  follows :  "Much 
Ado  about  Nothing:  As  it  hath  been  sundry  times  pub- 
licly acted  by  the  right  honourable,  the  Lord  Chamber- 
lain his  servants.  Written  by  William  Shakespeare, — 
London:  Printed  by  V.  S.  for  Andrew  Wise  and  William 
Apsley.  1600."  The  frequent  use  of  the  play  on  the 
public  stage,  and  the  need  of  a  stay  to  prevent  a  stolen 
issue,  may  doubtless  be  taken  as  evidence  of  a  pretty  good 

z 


MUCH  ADO  ABOUT  NOTHING  introduction 

run.  There  is  one  more  contemporary  reference  to  this 
play,  which  should  not  be  omitted.  Mr.  Steevens  ascer- 
tained from  one  of  Vertue's  manuscripts  that  Much  Ado 
about  Nothing  once  passed  under  the  title  of  Benedick  and 
Beatrice;  and  that  Heminge  the  player  received  on  May 
20,  1613,  the  sum  of  40  pounds,  and  20  pounds  more  as 
his  Majesty's  gratuity,  for  exliibiting  six  plays  at  Hamp- 
ton Court,  among  which  was  this  comedy. 

Except  the  quarto  of  1600,  there  was  no  other  edition  of 
Much  Ado  about  Nothing,  that  we  know  of,  till  the  folio 
of  1623,  where  it  stands  the  sixth  in  the  division  of  Com- 
edies. In  the  first  edition  neither  the  scenes  nor  the  acts, 
in  the  second  only  the  latter,  are  marked.  Some  question 
has  been  made  whether  the  folio  were  a  reprint  of  the 
quarto,  or  from  another  manuscript.  Considerable  might 
be  urged  on  either  side  of  the  question :  but  the  arguments 
would  hardly  pay  for  the  stating ;  the  differences  between 
the  two  copies  being  so  few  and  slight  as  to  make  it  of 
little  consequence  whether  they  were  printed  from  sev- 
eral manuscripts,  or  the  one  from  the  other.  And  the  su- 
perior authority  of  the  quarto  is  sufficiently  established  in 
that  it  came  out  during  the  author's  life,  and  when  he 
was  at  hand  to  correct  the  proof:  besides,  in  nearly  every 
case  of  difference  the  reading  of  the  quarto  seems  better 
in  itself.  There  is  one  point,  however,  bearing  rather 
in  favor  of  several  manuscripts,  which  ought  perhaps  to  be 
stated.  In  Act  II,  sc.  iii,  one  of  the  stage  directions  in 
the  folio  is, — "Enter  Prince,  Leonato,  Claudio,  and  Jack 
Wilson,"  thus  substituting  the  name  of  the  actor  for  that 
of  the  character;  which  looks  very  much  as  if  the  whole 
came  fresh  from  the  prompter's  book.  Wilson  was  a  cele- 
brated stage  singer  of  that  time ;  and  we  thus  learn  that 
he  performed  the  part  of  Balthazar.  Again,  in  Act  IV, 
sc.  ii,  both  quarto  and  folio  set  the  names  of  Kemp  and 
Cowley  before  the  speeches  of  Dogberry  and  Verges ;  thus 
showing  what  actors  originally  played  the  parts  of  those 
immortal  magistrates.  So  far  as  the  question  of  several 
manuscripts  is  concerned,  perhaps  the  agreement  of  the 

xi 


Introduction  MUCH    ADO 

two  editions  in  this  latter  case  may  be  fairly  regarded 
as  offsetting  their  difference  in  the  former,  as  Kemp  had 
been  dead  some  years  when  the  folio  appeared.  It  may 
be  worth  the  while  to  add,  that  the  folio  omits  some  pas- 
sages that  are  found  in  the  quarto,  two  of  which,  besides 
being  quite  at  home  where  they  stand,  are  too  good  to  be 
lost.  One  is  the  following  part  of  Don  Pedro's  speech  in 
Act  III,  sc.  ii:  "Or  in  the  shape  of  two  countries  at 
once ;  as  a  German  from  the  waist  downward,  all  slops,  and 
a  Spaniard  from  the  hip  upward,  no  doublet":  which  Mr. 
Collier  thinks  may  have  been  left  out  in  consequence  of 
some  change  of  fashion  between  1600  and  1623.  The 
other  passage  includes  a  part  of  Dogberry's  speech  in  Act 
IV,  sc.  ii:  "Write  down — that  they  hope  they  serve 
God : — and  write  God  first ;  for  God  defend  but  God  should 
go  before  such  villains" :  which,  as  Blackstone  suggests, 
may  have  been  thrown  out  in  1623,  on  account  of  a  law 
made  in  the  third  year  of  James  I  against  the  irreverent  use 
of  the  sacred  Name. 

What  with  the  copies  of  1600  and  1623,  the  text  of 
Much  Ado  about  Nothing,  except  in  one  instance,  is  every 
where  so  clear  and  well-settled  as  almost  to  foreclose  con- 
troversy. That  exception  is  the  last  verse  of  the  Song  in 
Act  V,  sc.  iii. 

This  play  is  not  in  the  list  given  by  Francis  Meres  in 
1598.  As  Meres'  purpose  was  to  set  forth  the  Poet's  ex- 
cellence in  comedy,  it  is  hardly  to  be  supposed  that  he 
would  have  taken  The  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona  and  left 
Much  Ado  about  Nothing,  if  the  latter  had  then  been 
known.  This  circumstance,  therefore,  together  with  the 
publishing  of  the  play  in  the  latter  part  of  1600,  suffi- 
ciently ascertains  the  probable  date  of  the  composition. 
Allowing  time  enough  for  a  successful  run  upon  the  boards, 
and  for  such  a  growth  of  popularity  as  to  invite  a  fraud- 
ulent publication,  the  play  could  scarce  have  been  written 
after  1599,  when  the  Poet  was  in  his  thirty -fifth  year. 

As  in  many  other  of  our  Author's  plays,  a  part  of  the 
plot  and  story  of  Much  Ado  about  Nothing  was  borrowed. 

xii 


ABOUT   NOTHING  introduction 

But  the  same  matter  had  been  borrowed  so  many  times  be- 
fore, and  run  into  so  many  variations,  that  we  cannot  af- 
firm with  certainty  to  what  source  Shakespeare  was  imme- 
diately indebted.  Mrs.  Lenox,  indeed,  characteristically 
instructs  us,  that  the  Poet  here  "borrowed  just  enough 
to  show  his  poverty  of  invention,  and  added  enough  to 
prove  his  want  of  judgment":  and  this  choice  dropping 
of  criticism,  like  many  others  vouchsafed  by  her  learned 
ladyship,  is  too  wise,  if  not  too  womanly,  to  need  any 
comment  from  us,  save  that  the  Poet  can  better  afford 
to  have  such  things  said,  than  the  sayer  can  to  have  them 
repeated. 

Pope  says, — "The  story  is  taken  from  Ariosto."  And 
so  much  of  it  as  relates  to  Hero,  Claudio,  and  John,  cer- 
tainly bears  a  strong  resemblance  to  the  tale  of  Ariodante 
and  Genevra,  which  occupies  the  whole  of  the  fifth  and 
part  of  the  sixth  books  of  Ariosto's  Orlando  Furioso.  A 
translation  of  this  part  of  the  poem  by  Peter  Beverly  was 
licensed  for  the  press  in  1565 ;  and  Warton  tells  us  it 
was  reprinted  in  1600;  which  is  of  some  consequence,  as 
suggesting  that  Shakespeare's  play  may  have  had  some- 
thing to  do  with  the  republication.  An  English  version  of 
Ariosto's  whole  poem,  by  Sir  John  Harrington,  came  out 
in  1591 ;  but  Much  Ado  about  Nothing  yields  no  traces  of 
the, Author's  having  been  with  Sir  John.  And  indeed  the 
fixing  of  any  obligations  in  this  quarter  is  the  more  diffi- 
cult, forasmuch  as  the  same  matter  appears  to  have  been 
borrowed  by  Ariosto  himself.  For  the  story  of  a  lady 
betrayed  to  peril  and  disgrace  by  the  personation  of  her 
waiting-woman  was  an  old  European  tradition :  it  has  been 
traced  to  Spain ;  and  Ariosto  interwove  it  with  the  adven- 
tures of  Rinaldo,  as  yielding  an  apt  occasion  for  his  chival- 
rous heroism.  An  outline  of  the  story  as  told  by  Ariosto  is 
thus  given  by  Mr.  Knight: 

"The  Lady  Genevra,  so  falsely  accused,  was  doomed  to 
die,  unless  a  true  knight  came  within  a  month  to  do  battle 
for  her  honor.  Her  lover,  Ariodante,  had  fled,  and  was 
reported  to  have  perished.     The  wicked  duke,  Polinesso, 

xiii 


Introduction  MUCH   ADO 

who  had  betrayed  Genevra,  appears  secure  in  his  treachery. 
But  the  misguided  woman,  Dahnda,  who  had  been  the  in- 
strument of  his  crime,  flying  from  her  paramour,  meets 
with  Rinaldo,  and  declares  the  truth.  Then  comes  the  com- 
bat, in  which  the  guilty  duke  is  slain  by  the  champion  of 
innocence,  and  the  lover  reappears  to  be  made  happy  with 
his  spotless  princess." 

From  which  it  will  be  seen  at  once  that  the  Polinesso  of 
the  poem  answers  to  the  John  of  the  play.  But  there  is 
this  important  difference,  that  the  motive  of  the  former 
in  vilifying  the  lady  is  to  drive  away  her  lover,  that  he  may 
have  her  himself;  whereas  the  latter  acts  from  a  self -gen- 
erated malignity  of  spirit  that  takes  pleasure  in  blast- 
ing the  happiness  of  others  without  any  hope  of  supplant- 
ing them. 

Spenser,  whose  genius  sucked  in  whatsoever  was  rich  and 
rare  in  all  the  resources  that  learning  could  accumulate, 
seems  to  have  followed  Ariosto  in  working  the  same  tale 
into  the  variegated  structure  of  his  great  poem:  but  the 
Englishman  so  used  it  as  to  set  forth  a  high  moral  lesson; 
the  Italian,  to  minister  opportunity  for  a  romantic  adven- 
ture. The  story  of  Phedon,  relating  the  treachery  of 
his  false  friend  Philemon,  is  in  Book  ii.  Canto  4,  of  the 
Faery  Queene, 

The  same  story  also  forms  the  groundwork  of  one  of 
Bandello's  novels ;  and  INIr.  Skottowe's  brief  analysis  of 
that  tale  will  indicate  the  most  probable  source  of  Shake- 
speare's borrowings: 

"Fenlcia,  the  daughter  of  Lionato,  a  gentleman  of  Mes- 
sina, is  betrothed  to  Timbreo  de  Cardona.  Girondo,  a 
disappointed  lover  of  the  young  lady,  resolves,  if  possible, 
to  prevent  the  marriage.  He  insinuates  to  Timbreo  that 
his  mistress  is  disloj-al,  and  offers  to  show  him  a  stranger 
scaling  her  chamber  window.  Timbreo  accepts  the  invita- 
tion, and  witnesses  the  hired  servant  of  Girondo,  in  the 
dress  of  a  gentleman,  ascending  a  ladder  and  entering  the 
house  of  Lionato.  Stung  with  rage  and  jealousy,  Tim- 
breo the  next  morning  accuses  his  innocent  mistress  to  her 

xiv 


ABOUT   NOTHING  Introduction 

father,  and  rejects  the  alliance.  Fenicia  sinks  in  a  swoon; 
a  dangerous  illness  succeeds ;  and  to  stifle  all  reports  in- 
jurious to  her  fame,  Lionato  proclaims  that  she  is  dead. 
Her  funeral  rites  are  performed  in  Messina,  while  in  truth 
she  lies  concealed  in  the  obscurity  of  a  country  residence. 

"The  thought  of  having  occasioned  the  death  of  an  in- 
nocent and  lovely  female  strikes  Girondo  with  horror;  in 
the  agony  of  remorse  he  confesses  his  villainy  to  Timbreo, 
and  they  both  throw  themselves  on  the  mercy,  and  ask  for- 
giveness, of  the  insulted  family  of  Fenicia.  On  Tim- 
breo is  imposed  only  the  penance  of  espousing  a  lady 
whose  face  he  should  not  see  previous  to  his  marriage: 
instead  of  a  new  bride,  whom  he  expected,  he  is  presented, 
at  the  nuptial  altar,  with  his  injured  and  beloved  Fenicia." 

How  Shakespeare  could  have  come  to  the  knowledge  of 
Bandello's  novel,  unless  through  the  original,  is  not  easy 
to  explain ;  no  translation  of  so  early  a  date  having  been 
preserved.  Which  is  probably  the  cause  why  the  critics 
have  been  so  unwilling  to  trace  him  to  this  source ;  as  it  did 
not  suit  their  theory  to  allow  that  he  had  learning  enough 
to  read  a  simple  tale  in  what  was  then  the  most  generally- 
studied  language  of  Europe. 

This  account  of  the  matter,  if  it  do  no  more,  may  serve 
to  show,  what  is  so  often  shown  elsewhere,  that  in  his  bor- 
rowing of  stories  Shakespeare  seems  to  have  preferred  such 
as  were  most  received  into  the  common  circulation  of 
thought,  and  most  familiar  to  his  audience,  that  he  might 
have  some  tie  of  association  to  draw  and  hold  their  minds 
to  the  deep  lessons  of  beauty  and  wisdom  which  he  was 
ever  pouring  forth  from  himself.  And  surely  much  less 
of  insight  than  he  possessed  might  have  taught  him,  that 
men  are  apt  to  study  for  novelty  in  proportion  as  they  lack 
originality ;  and  that  where  the  latter  abounds  the  fonner 
may  be  rather  a  hindrance  than  a  help. 

This  placing  of  the  main  interest  in  something  higher 
and  better  than  any  mere  plot  or  story  can  be,  is  well 
stated  by  Coleridge:  "The  interest  in  the  plot  is  on  ac- 
count of  the  characters,  not  vice  versa,  as  in  almost  all  other 

XV 


Introduction  MUCH   ADO 

writers ;  the  plot  is  a  mere  canvas,  and  no  more.  Take 
away  from  Much  Ado  about  Nothing  all  that  is  not  indis- 
pensable to  the  plot,  either  as  having  little  to  do  with  it, 
or,  like  Dogberry  and  his  comrades,  forced  into  the  serv- 
ice, when  any  other  less  ingeniously-absurd  watchmen  and 
night-constables  would  have  answered  the  mere  necessities 
of  the  action ;  take  away  Benedick,  Beatrice,  Dogberry, 
and  the  reaction  of  the  former  on  the  character  of  Hero, — 
and  what  will  remain?  In  other  writers  the  main  agent  of 
the  plot  is  always  the  prominent  character:  John  is  the 
mainspring  of  the  plot  in  this  play  ;  but  he  is  merely  shown, 
and  then  withdrawn." 

We  have  already  seen  from  the  external  evidence  that 
Much  Ado  about  Nothing  was  probably  written  in  or  near 
the  author's  thirty-fifth  year.  And  it  requires  no  great 
perspicacity  to  see  from  the  play  itself  that  it  naturally 
falls  somewhere  in  the  middle  period  of  his  productive  years. 
The  style,  like  that  of  Twelfth  Night,  is  sustained  and 
equal ;  easy,  natural,  and  modest  in  dress  and  bearing ; 
every  where  alive  indeed  with  the  exhilaration  of  wit,  or  hu- 
mor, or  poetry,  but  without  the  labored  smoothness  of  his 
earlier  plays,  or  the  penetrating  energy  and  quick,  sinewy 
movement  of  his  later  ones.  Compared  with  some  of  its 
predecessors,  the  play  shows  a  decided  growth  in  what  may 
be  termed  virility  of  mind:  a  wider  scope,  a  higher  reach, 
a  firmer  grasp,  have  been  attained:  the  Poet's  faculties 
have  manifestly  been  feeding  upon  tonics,  and  inhaling 
invigoration :  he  has  come  to  read  nature  less  through  "the 
spectacles  of  books,"  and  does  not  hesitate  to  meet  her 
face  to  face,  and  trust  and  try  himself  alone  with  her. 
The  result  of  all  which  appears  in  a  greater  freshness  and 
reality  of  characterization :  there  being  less  of  a  certain 
dim,  equivocal  hearsay  air  about  the  persons ;  as  if  his 
mind,  having  outgrown  its  recollected  terms  and  bookish 
generalities,  had  plunged  into  living  intercourse  with  sur- 
rounding life,  where  his  personal  observation  and  experi- 
ence are  blossoming  up  into  poetry  and  going  to  seed  in 
philosophy. 


ABOUT   NOTHING  Introduction 

Much  Ado  about  Nothing  has  great  variety  of  interest, 
now  running  into  the  most  grotesque  drollery,  now  rising 
into  an  ahnost  tragic  dignity,  now  revchng  in  the  most 
sparkling  brilliancy.  Its  excellences,  however,  both  of 
plot  and  of  character  are  rather  of  the  striking  sort,  in- 
volving little  of  the  hidden  beauty  which  shows  just  enough 
on  the  surface  to  invite  a  diligent  search,  and  then  over- 
pays all  the  labor  it  costs.  The  play,  accordingly,  has  al- 
ways been  very  effective  on  the  stage. — The  characters  of 
Hero  and  Claudio,  though  rather  beautiful  than  other- 
wise in  their  simplicity  and  uprightness,  offer  no  very 
salient  points,  and  are  indeed  nowise  extraordinary :  they 
derive  their  interest  mainly  from  the  events  that  befall 
them ;  the  reverse  of  which  is  generally  true  of  Shake- 
speare's plays.  One  can  scarce  help  thinking,  that  had 
the  course  of  love  run  smooth  with  them,  its  voice,  even  if 
audible,  had  been  hardly  worth  the  hearing.  Hero,  in- 
deed, is  altogether  gentle  and  womanly  in  her  ways,  and 
she  offers  a  rather  sweet,  inviting  nestling-place  for  the 
fireside  affections ;  and  there  is  something  very  pathetic  and 
touching  in  her  situation  when  she  is  s^tricken  down  in 
mute  agony  by  the  tongue  of  slander. — That  Claudio 
should  lend  his  ear  to  the  poisonous  breathings  of  one 
whose  spirits  are  known  to  "toil  in  frame  of  villanies,"  is 
no  little  impeachment  of  his  temper,  or  his  understanding; 
and  the  preparing  us  for  this,  by  representing  him  as  fall- 
ing into  a  fit  of  jealousy  towards  the  Prince,  is  a  fine  in- 
stance of  the  Poet's  skill  and  care  in  small  matters.  A 
piece  of  conduct,  which^the  circumstances  do  not  explain, 
is  explained  at  once  by  thus  disclosing  a  slight  predisposi- 
tion to  jealousy  in  the  subject.  In  keeping  with  this  part 
of  his  behavior,  Claudio's  action  every  where  smacks  of 
the  soldier:  he  shows  all  along  both  the  faults  and  the  vir- 
tues of  his  calling;  is  sensitive,  rash,  "quick  in  quarrel," 
and  as  quick  in  reconciliation ;  and  has  a  sort  of  unre- 
flective  spontaneousness  about  him,  that  is  only  not  so  good 
as  a  chastened  discretion  and  a  firm,  steady  self-control. 
This  accounts  very   well  for  his   sudden   running  into   a 


Introduction  MUCH   ADO 

match,  which  in  itself  looks  more  like  a  freak  of  fancy 
than  a  resolution  of  love ;  while  the  same  suddenness  on 
the  side  of  the  more  calm,  discreet,  and  patient  Hero,  is 
accounted  for  by  the  intervention  of  the  Prince,  and  the 
sway  he  might  justly  have  over  her  thoughts. — Critics 
have  unnecessarily  found  fault  with  the  Poet  for  the  char- 
acter of  John,  as  if  it  lay  without  the  circumference  of 
truth  and  nature.  They  would  apparently  prefer  the  more 
commonplace  character  of  a  disappointed  rival  in  love, 
whose  guilt  might  be  explained  away  into  a  pressure  of  vio- 
lent motives.  But  Shakespeare  saw  deeper  into  human 
character ;  and  perhaps  his  wisest  departure  from  the  orig- 
inal story  is  in  making  John  a  moody,  sullen,  envious  ras- 
cal, who  joys  at  others'  pain,  is  pained  at  others'  joy,  and 
gloats  over  his  power  in  working  mischief;  thus  exempli- 
fying in  a  smaller  figure  the  same  innate,  spontaneous 
malice  which  towers  into  such  a  stupendous  height  of  wick- 
edness in  lago.  We  may  well  reluct  to  believe  in  the  fact 
of  such  characters ;  but  history  is  unhappily  too  full  of 
deeds  and  plots  that  cannot  be  otherwise  accounted  for; 
nor  need  we  go  far  to  learn  that  men  may  "spin  motives 
out  of  their  own  bowels" ;  and  that  the  man  often  has  more 
to  do  in  shaping  the  motive  than  the  motive  in  determining 
the  man. 

Ulrici,  regarding  the  play  as  setting  forth  the  contrast 
between  life,  as  it  is  in  itself,  and  as  it  seems  to  those  en- 
gaged in  its  struggle,  looks  upon  Dogberry  as  embody- 
ing the  whole  idea  of  the  piece.  And,  sure  enough,  the 
impressive  insignificance  of  his  action  to  the  lookers-on 
is  equaled  only  by  its  stuffed  importance  to  himself:  when 
he  is  really  most  absurd  and  ridiculous,  precisely  then  it 
is  that  he  feels  most  confident  and  grave ;  the  irony  that 
is  rarified  into  wit  and  poetry  in  the  other  characters  being 
thus  condensed  into  the  broadest  humor  and  drollery  in 
him.  The  German  critic,  however,  is  not  quite  right  in 
thinking  that  his  blundering  garrulity  brings  to  light  the 
infernal  plot ;  as  it  rather  keeps  it  in  the  dark :  he  is  too 
fond  of  hearing  himself  talk  to  make  known  what  he  has 

xviii 


ABOUT   NOTHING  Introduction 

to  say,  in  time  to  do  any  good ;  and  amidst  his  huge  strut- 
tings  and  tumblings  of  mind  the  truth  leaks  out  at  last 
in  spite  of  him.  The  part  was  imitated  by  other  drama- 
tists of  the  time;  which  shows  it  to  have  been  a  decided  hit 
on  the  stage ;  and  perhaps  the  Poet  has  evinced  something 
of  an  author's  weakness  in  attempting  a  repetition  of  Dog- 
berry under  the  name  of  Elbow  in  Measure  for  Measure. 
But  even  Shakespeare  himself  could  not  make  an  imitation 
come  up  to  his  own  original. 

The  good  repute  of  Benedick  and  Beatrice  has  been 
greatly  periled  by  their  wit.  But  it  is  the  ordinary  lot  of 
persons  so  wise  as  they,  to  suffer  under  the  misconstructions 
of  prejudice  or  partial  acquaintance;  their  wisdom  aug- 
menting the  difficulty  of  coming  to  a  true  knowledge  of 
them.  How  dangerous  it  is  to  be  so  gifted  that  way,  may 
be  seen  by  the  impression  these  persons  have  had  the  ill  luck 
to  make  on  one  whose  good  opinion  is  so  desirable  as 
Campbell's.  He  says, — "During  one  half  of  the  play,  we 
have  a  disagreeable  female  character  in  that  of  Beatrice. 
Her  portrait,  I  may  be  told,  is  deeply  drawn,  and  minutely 
finished.  It  is ;  and  so  is  that  of  Benedick,  who  is  entirely 
her  counterpart,  except  that  he  is  less  disagreeable."  A 
little  after,  he  pronounces  Beatrice  "an  odious  woman." 
We  are  sorry  so  tasteful  and  charming  a  critic  should 
think  so,  but  suppose  there  is  no  help  for  it.  In  support 
of  his  opinion  he  quotes  Hero's  speech, — "Disdain  and 
scorn  ride  sparkling  in  her  eyes,"  etc. ;  but  he  seems  to 
forget  that  these  words  are  spoken  with  the  intent  that 
Beatrice  shall  hear  them,  and  at  the  same  time  think  she 
overhears  them ;  that  is,  not  as  being  true,  but  as  being 
suited  to  a  certain  end,  and  as  having  just  enough  of 
truth  to  be  effective  for  that  end.  So  that,  viewed  in  refer- 
ence to  the  speaker's  purpose,  perhaps  nothing  could  be 
better;  viewed  as  describing  the  character  of  Beatrice, 
scarce  any  thing  were  worse ;  and  the  effect  the  speech  has 
on  her 'proves  it  Is  not  true.  To  the  same  end,  the  Prince, 
Leonato,  and  Claudio  speak  as  much  the  other  way,  where 
they  know  Benedick  is  overhearing  them ;  and  what  is  there 

xix 


Introduction  MUCH    ADO 

said  in  her  favor  is  just  a  fair  offset  of  what  was  before 
said  against  her.  But  indeed  it  is  clear  enough  that  a 
speech  thus  made  reall3^  for  the  ear  of  the  subject,  yet 
seemingly  in  confidence  to  another  person,  cannot  be  re- 
ceived in  evidence  against  her. 

Fortunately,  however,  for  Beatrice,  the  critic's  unfavor- 
able opinion  is  accounted  for  by  what  himself  has  unfortu- 
nately witnessed.  He  says, — "I  once  knew  such  a  pair: 
the  lady  was  a  perfect  Beatrice;  she  railed  hypocritically 
at  wedlock  before  her  marriage,  and  with  bitter  sincerity 
after  it.  She  and  her  Benedick  now  live  apart,  but  with 
entire  reciprocity  of  sentiments ;  each  devoutly  wishing  that 
the  other  may  soon  pass  into  a  better  world."  So  that 
the  writer's  strong  dislike  of  Beatrice  is  one  of  the  finest 
testimonies  we  have  seen  to  the  Poet's  wonderful  truth  of 
delineation ;  inasmuch  as  it  shows  how  our  views  of  his 
characters,  as  of  those  in  real  life,  depend  less  perhaps  on 
what  they  are  in  themselves,  than  on  our  own  peculiar 
associations.  Nature's  and  SJiakespeare's  men  and  women 
seem  very  differently  to  different  persons,  and  even  to  tli«" 
same  persons  at  different  times.  Need  it  be  said  that  this 
is  because  the  characters  are  individuals,  not  abstrac- 
tions?— Viewed  therefore  in  this  light,  the  tribute  is  so 
exquisite  that  we  half  suspect  the  author  meant  it  as  sucli. 
In  itself,  however,  we  much  prefer  the  ground  taken  by 
other  critics :  That  in  the  unamiable  part  of  their  deport- 
ment Benedick  and  Beatrice  are  but  playing;  that  their 
playing  is  with  a  view  to  conceal,  not  express,  their  real 
jfeelings ;  that  it  is  the  very  strength  of  their  feelings  that 
puts  and  keeps  them  upon  this  mode  of  concealment ;  and 
that  the  exclusive  pointing  of  their  raillery  against  each 
other  is  itself  proof  of  a  deep  and  growing  attachment : 
though  it  must  be  confessed,  that  the  ability  to  play  so 
well  is  a  great  temptation  to  carrj'  it  to  excess,  or  where  it 
will  be  apt  to  cause  something  else  than  mirth.  This  it  is 
that  justifies  the  repetition  of  the  stratagem,  th'e  same 
process  being  necessary  in  both  cases  "to  get  rid  of  their 
reciprocal  disguises,  and  make  them  straightforward  and 

XX 


ABOUT   NOTHING  introduction 

in  earnest."  And  the  effect  of  the  stratagem  is  to  begin 
the  unmasking  which  is  so  thoroughly  completed  by  the 
wrongs  and  sufferings  of  Hero:  they  are  thus  disciplined, 
for  a  time  at  least,  out  of  their  playing,  and  made  to  show 
themselves  as  they  are :  before  we  saw  but  their  art,  now  we 
see  their  virtue;  and  this,  though  not  a  little  clouded  with 
faults,  strikes  us  as  something  rather  noble. 

The  wit  of  these  persons,  though  seeming  at  first  view 
much  the  same,  is  very  nicely  discriminated,  discovering  in 
her  more  sprightliness,  in  him  more  strength,  of  mind. 
Beatrice,  intelligent  but  thoughtless,  has  little  of  reflection 
in  her  wit;  but  throws  it  off  in  rapid  flashes  whenever  any 
object  ministers  a  spark  to  her  fancy.  Though  of  the 
most  piercing  keenness  and  the  most  exquisite  aptness,  there 
is  no  ill-nature  about  it ;  it  stings  indeed,  but  does  not  poi- 
son. The  offspring  merely  of  the  moment  and  the  occa 
sion,  it  strikes  the  fancy,  but  leaves  no  trace  on  the  mem- 
ory ;  but  we  feel  that  she  forgets  it  as  soon  as  we  do.  Its 
agility  is  infinite:  wherever  it  may  be,  the  instant  one  goes 
to  put  his  hand  upon  it,  he  is  sure  to  find  or  feel  it  some- 
where else. — The  wit  of  Benedick,  on  the  other  hand, 
springs  more  from  reflection,  and  grows  with  the  growth 
of  thought.  With  all  the  pungency  and  nearly  all  the 
pleasantry,  it  lacks  the  free,  spontaneous  volubility,  of 
hers.  Hence  in  their  skirmishes  she  always  gets  the  better 
of  him.  But  he  makes  ample  amends  when  out  of  her 
presence,  trundling  off  jests  in  whole  paragraphs.  In 
short,  if  his  wit  be  slower,  it  is  also  stronger  than  hers :  not 
so  agile  in  manner,  more  weighty  in  matter,  it  shines  less, 
but  burns  more ;  and  as  it  springs  much  less  out  of  the  oc- 
casion, so  it  will  bear  repeating  much  better. — The  effect  of 
the  serious  events  in  bringing  these  persons  into  an  armis- 
tice of  wit  is  indeed  a  rare  stroke  of  art ;  and  perhaps  some 
such  thing  was  necessary,  to  prevent  the  impression  of  their 
being  jesters  by  trade.  It  proves  at  least  that  Beatrice  is 
a  witty  woman,  and  not  a  mere  female  wit. 

The  general  view  of  life,  as  opened  out  in  this  play,  is 
pretty  clearly  indicated  by  the  title.     The  characters  do 


Introduction  MUCH  ADO  ABOUT  NOTHING 

indeed  make  or  have  much  ado;  but  all  the  while  to  us  who 
are  in  the  secret,  and  ultimately  to  the  persons  themselves, 
all  this  much  ado  proves  to  be  about  nothing.  Which  is 
but  a  common  difference  in  the  aspect  of  things,  as  they 
appear  to  the  spectators  and  to  the  partakers ;  it  needs  but 
an  average  experience  to  discover  that  real  life  is  full  of 
just  such  passages:  what  troubled  and  worried  us  yester- 
day, made  others  laugh  then,  and  makes  us  laugh  to-day : 
what  we  fret  or  grieve  at  in  the  progress,  we  still  smile  and 
make  merry  over  in  the  result.  This,  we  believe,  is  the 
simple  upshot  of  what  Ulrici,  writing  in  a  style  that  few 
know  or  care  to  understand,  has  discoursed  upon  with  much 
ado,  though  we  cannot  quite  add,  about  nothing. 


zxu 


COMMENTS 

By  Shakespearean  Scholars 

BEATRICE 

Shakspeare  has  exhibited  in  Beatrice  a  spirited  and  faith- 
ful portrait  of  the  fine  lady  of  his  own  time.  The  de- 
portment, language,  manners,  and  allusions,  are  those  of  a 
particular  class  in  a  particular  age ;  but  the  individual  and 
dramatic  character  which  forms  the  groundwork,  is 
strongly  discriminated ;  and  being  taken  from  general  na- 
ture, belongs  to  every  age.  In  Beatrice,  high  intellect  and 
high  animal  spirits  meet,  und  excite  each  other  like  fire  and 
air.  In  her  wit  (which  is  brilliant  without  being  imag- 
inative), there  is  a  touch  of  insolence,  not  unfrequcnt  in 
women  when  the  wit  predominates  over  reflection  and  im- 
agination. In  her  temper,  too,  there  is  a  slight  infusion 
of  the  termagant ;  and  her  satirical  humor  plays  with  such 
an  unrespective  levity  over  all  subjects  alike,  that  it  re- 
quired a  profound  knowledge  of  women  to  bring^such  a^ 
character  within  the  pale  of  our  sympathy.--^  But  Beatrice, 
though  wilful,  is  not  wayward ;  she  is  volatile,  not  unfeel- 
ing. She  has  not  only  an  exuberance  of  wit  and  gaiety, 
but  of  heart,  and  soul,  and  energy  of  spirit ;  and  is  no 
more  like  the  fine  ladies  of  modern  comedy, — whose  wit 
consists  in  a  temporary  allusion,  or  a  play  upon  words,  and 
whose  petulance  is  displayed  in  a  toss  of  the  head,  a  flirt 
of  the  fan,  or  a  flourish  of  the  pocket  handkerchief, — 
than  one  of  our  modern  dandies  is  like  Sir  Philip  Sydney. 

In  Beatrice,  Shakspeare  has  contrived  that  the  poetry 
of  the  character  shall  not  only  soften,  but  heighten  its 
comic  eff'ect.  We  are  not  only  inclined  to  forgive  Beatrice 
all  her  scornful  airs,  all  her  biting  jests,  all  her  assumo- 


Comments  MUCH   ADO 

tion  of  superiority ;  but  they  amuse*  and  delight  us  the 
more,  when  we  find  her,  with  all  the  headlong  simplicity  of 
a  child,  falling  at  once  into  the  snare  laid  for  her  affec- 
tions ;  when  we  see  her,  who  thought  a  man  of  God's  mak- 
ing not  good  enough  for  her,  who  disdained  to  be  o'ermas- 
tered  by  "a  piece  of  valiant  dust,"  stooping  like  the  rest 
of  her  sex,  vailing  her  proud  spirit,  and  taming  her  wild 
heart  to  the  loving  hand  of  him  whom  she  had  scorned, 
flouted,  and  misused,  "past  the  endurance  of  a  blockV 
And  we  are  j^et  more  completely  won  by  her  generous  en- 
thusiastic attachment  to  her  cousin.  When  the  father  of 
Hero  believes  the  tale  of  her  guilt ;  when  Claudio,  her  lover, 
without  remorse  or  a  lingering  doubt,  consigns  her  to 
shame;  when  the  Friar  remains  silent,  and  the  generous 
Benedick  himself  knows  not  what  to  say,  Beatrice,  confi- 
dent in  her  affections,  and  guided  only  by  the  impulses  of 
her  own  feminine  heart,  sees  through  the  inconsistency,  the 
impossibility  of  the  charge,  and  exclaims,  without  a  mo- 
ment's hesitation, 

O,  on  my  soul,  my  cousin  is  belied ! 

— Jameson,  Shakespeare^ s  Heroines. 

It  is  the  injury  done  to  Hero  which  wrings  from  Bea- 
trice the  avowal  of  her  love  for  Benedick.  Is  it  a  re- 
proach to  her  that  she  would  have  her  lover  peril  his  life 
against  the  false  accuser  of  her  cousin?  She  has  thrown 
off  her  maidenly  disguises,  and  the  earnestness  of  her  soul 
will  have  vent.  She  and  Benedick  are  now  bound  for  ever 
in  their  common  pity  for  the  unfortunate.  The  conven- 
tional Beatrice  has  become  the  actual  Beatrice.  The  "sub- 
jective appearance"  has  become  the  "objective  reality." 
The  same  process  is  repeated  throughout  the  character  of 
Benedick,  for  the  original  groundwork  of  the  character 
is  the  same  as  that  of  Beatrice.  "Would  you  have  me 
speak  after  my  custom,  as  being  a  professed  tyrant  to  their 
sex,"  presents  the  same  key  to  his  character  as  "I  had 
rather  hear  my  dog  bark  at  a  crow,  than  a  man  swear  he 

xxiv 


ABOUT    XOTHING  Comments 

loves  me,"  does  to  that  of  Beatrice.  They  are  each  act- 
ing; and  they  have  each  a  shrewd  guess  that  the  other  is 
acting ;  and  each  is  in  the  other's  thoughts ;  and  the  strata- 
gem by  which  they  are  each  entrapped — not,  as  we  think, 
into  an  unreal  love,  as  Ulrici  says, — is  precisely  in  its  sym- 
metrical simplicity  what  was  necessary  to  get  rid  of  their 
reciprocal  disguises,  and  to  make  them  straightforward  and 
in  earnest.  The  conclusion  of  the  affair  is  the  playful  echo 
of  all  that  is  past : — 

"Bene.  Come,  I  will  tiave  thee;  but,  by  this  light,  I  take  thee  for 

pity. 
Beat.  I  would  not  deny  you; — but,  by  this  good  day,  I  yield  upon 
great  persuasion." 

— Knight,  Pictorial  Shakespeare. 


BENEDICK  AND  BEATRICE 

Benedick  is  a  shrewd  and  kindly  man  of  the  world,  su- 
perficially affected;  Beatrice,  a  young  Renaissance  damsel, 
brilliantly  educated,  flashing  with  sharp  wit,  beautiful  and 
unabashed,  the  sunshine  of  her  uncle  Leonato's  house,  is 
almost,  if  not  quite,  the  most  attractive  of  all  Shakespeare's 
heroines.  There  is  nothing  in  all  comedy  more  brilliant 
than  the  interplay  of  these  two.  The  pair  had  begun  to 
take  an  interest  in  each  other  when  the  play  begins,  but 
the  barbed  wit  of  Beatrice  had  piqued  Master  Benedick's 
self-esteem  rather  more  than  he  cared  to  admit,  while 
Beatrice  had  conceived  a  dislike  for  the  airs,  especially  the 
woman-hating  airs,  that  the  gentleman  gave  himself.  The 
way  in  which  Shakespeare  converts  their  mutual  irritation 
into  the  basis  of  a  real  and  lasting  affection  is  a  triumph 
of  art.  The  supposed  discovery  that  Benedick  is  con- 
sumed by  a  passion  for  her  develops  Beatrice  from  a  saucy 
girl,  "in  whose  eyes  disdain  and  scorn  ride  sparkling,"  into 
a  woman.  The  wrong  done  to  her  cousin  Hero  brings  out 
all  the  fine  and  generous  elements  in  her  nature.     When 


Comments  MUCH    ADO 

Hero's  own  father  accepts  her  guilt  as  proven,  when 
Claudio  without  a  doubt  or  a  touch  of  remorse  consigns  her 
to  sliaine,  when  the  friar  remains  silent,  and  the  generous 
Benedick  himself  knows  not  what  to  say,  Beatrice  alone, 
whose  wit  is  acknowledged  to  be  as  shrewd  as  her  heart  is 
generous,  instinctively  and  without  a  moment's  hesitation 
rebuts  the  foul  charge: 

"Oh,  on  my  soul,  my  cousin  is  belied !" 

Benedick  is  successfully  spurred  to  champion  the  cause 
of  injured  innocence.  But  as  soon  as  ever  the  dark  sky  of 
trouble  is  cleai'ed,  Beatrice  recovers  her  gayest  spirits  and 
is  ^ager  for  fresh  victories  in  the  "merry  war"  between 
herself  and  "Signor  Montanto."  "I  yield  to  your  love," 
she  says,  "only  upon  great  persuasion,  and  partly  to  save 
your  life,  for  I  was  told  3'ou  were  in  a  consumption."  But 
Benedick  knows  that  he  has  won  her  heart,  and  that  it  is 
a  heart  of  gold, — Seccombe  and  Allen,  The  Age  of 
Shakespeare. 

Beatrice  creates  the  intellectual  atmosphere  in  which 
the  play  moves ;  hence,  although  her  part  in  the  action 
is  extremely  slight  and  does  not  affect  its  issues,  she  seems 
to  be  the  center  about  which  it  revolves.  At  only  two 
points  does  she  intervene,  actively  or  passively,  in  the  plot ; 
and  these  arc  points  at  which  the  passionate  woman  in  her 
subdues  the  dazzling  mocker.  No  whit  less  helplessly  than 
her  gentle  cousin  had  fallen  a  victim  to  the  malignant  de- 
vice of  Don  John,  Beatrice  falls  a  victim  to  its  sportive 
counterpart,  Leonato's  "pastime"  for  securing  "that  time 
shall  not  go  dull^"^  with  us."  Nothing  in  the  Comedies  is 
more  delicately  imagined  in  all  its  details  than  this  gay 
inversion  of  the  tragic  theme.  Here  two  professed  antag- 
onists are  beguiled  into  loye,  there  two  lovers  are  beguiled 
to  a  rupture.  Here,  as  there,  a  deception  which  has  a 
basis  of  truth ;  for  Benedick's  and  Beatrice's  professed 
antagonism  conceals  a  s^-mpathetic  fascination  which  a 
slight  stimulus  shakes  into  love,  and  Claudio's  professed 

xxvi 


ABOUT    NOTHING  Comments 

love  conceals  a  profound  ignorance  of  Hero,  which  the  bare 
suggestion  of  suspicion  transforms  into  insulting  and  vin- 
dictive rage.  The  slanderous  tongues  do  their  work ;  and 
then  the  ardent  womanhood  of  Beatrice  alone  rises  up  in 
protest  against  the  inanities  of  "evidence"  and  "proof,"  at 
first  half  baffled  by  grief  and  choked  by  tears,  then  flam- 
ing out  into  the  great  cry,  "Kill  Claudio" ;  while  the  hesi- 
tating Benedick  gathers  energy  and  will  under  her  spell. — 
Herford,  The  Eversley  Shakespeare. 

HERO 

But  the  central  point  on  which  all  hinges  is  the  daughter 
of  the  house,  the  quiet  Hero.  She  is  her  father's  pride  and 
ornament  and  love,  compared  to  whom  himself  and  every- 
thing else  is  thrown  into  the  sftade.  With  a  heart  tender 
and  foreboding,  she  fascinates  even  when  she  is  mute  by 
the  overpowering  impression  of  her  chaste,  modest  nature. 
She  can  practise  no  wanton  playfulness,  only  at  best  behind 
the  mask;  she  would  fain  not  suffer  the  unseasonable  jests 
of  her  waiting-woman ;  when  she  has  played  Beatrice  her 
successful  trick,  she  checks  forbcaringly  every  teasing 
word.  When  a  scandalous  suspicion  is  cast  in  the  most 
degrading  manner  against  this  picture  of  innocence,  shame 
struggles  silently  within  her;  her  fiery  eyes  might  have 
burned  out  the  errors  of  her  accusers,  but  she  can  find  no 
words,  and  sinks  mutely  in  a  swoon.  To  the  one  who 
knows  her,  to  Beatrice,  she  appears  as  she  is,  raised  above 
all  suspicion,  although  nothing  speaks  in  her  favor,  and  all 
witnesses  and  proofs  testify  against  her.  Such  a  being 
seems  thoroughly  qualified  to  form  the  happiness  and  pride 
of  a  family  which  consists  of  good,  honorable,  and  honored 
men. — Gervinus,  Shakespeare  Commentaries. 

DOGBERRY 

Most  delightful  is  the  contradiction  between  appearance 
and  reality,  between  subjective   conception  and  objective 


Comments  MUCH   ADO 

reality,  as  we  have  it  exhibited  in  the  Clown  of  the  piece, 
the  dutiful  constable  Dogberry,  who  considers  his  position 
so  very  important  and  maintains  it  so  zealously,  but  who  is 
always  uttering  contradictory  maxims  and  precepts ;  who 
is  so  presumptuous  and  yet  so  modest ;  who  looks  at  things 
with  so  correct  an  eye  and  yet  pronounces  such  foolish 
judgments;  talks  so  much  and  yet  says  so  little,  in  fact, 
perpetually  contradicts  himself,  giving  orders  for  what  he 
advises  to  be  left  undone,  entreating  to  be  registered  an 
ass,  and  yet  is  the  very  one  to  discover  the  nothing  which 
is  the  cause  of  the  much  ado.  He  is  the  chief  representa- 
tive of  that  view  of  life  upon  which  the  whole  is  based,  in- 
asmuch as  its  comic  power  is  exhibited  most  strongly  and 
most  directly  in  him.  For  this  contrast,  which,  in  accord- 
ance with  its  nature,  usually  appears  divided  between  its 
two  poles,  is,  so  to  say,  individualized  in  him,  that  is,  united 
in  the  one  individual  and  fully  reflected  in  his  inconsistent 
and  ever  contradictory  doings  and  resolves,  thoughts  and 
sayings.  Dogberry  personifies,  if  we  may  say  so,  the  spirit 
and  meaning  of  the  whole,  and,  therefore,  plays  essentially 
the  same  part  as  the  Fool  in  Twelfth  Night,  Touchstone 
in  As  You  Like  It,  Launce  in  The  Two  Gentlemen  of 
Verona,  and  the  majority  of  the  clowns  in  Shakespeare's 
comedies.  Besides  this,  he  is  also  an  important  character 
in  so  far  as  it  is  he  who  discovers  the  rascally  trick  of  Don 
John  and  his  accomplice  which  gives  rise  to  the  whole  com- 
plication ;  in  fact,  the  comic  caprice  of  accident  delights  in 
employing  the  most  comic  of  all  characters,  the  clowns  par 
excellence,  to  bring  to  light  that  which  it  was  indeed  easy 
enough  to  discover,  which,  however,  the  sense  of  the  sensi- 
ble personages  did  not  perceive.  At  all  events  our  point  of 
view  gives  an  easy  and  simple  explanation  as  to  why  Shak- 
speare  conferred  the  difficult  task  of  unravelling  the  en- 
tangled knot  upon  such  a  peculiarly  foolish  fellow  as  Dog- 
berry, and  why  he  made  him  the  clown  of  the  piece  and 
conceived  his  character  in  this  and  in  no  other  light. — 
Ulrici,  Shakspeare's  Dramatic  Art. 


ABOUT   NOTHING  Comments 

And  at  first  it  seems  as  if  Shakspeare  intended  by  the  in- 
troduction of  Dogberry  and  his  ineffective  watch  merely  to 
interpolate  a  bit  of  comic  business,  by  parodying  the  im- 
portant phrases  and  impotent  exploits  of  the  suburban  con- 
stable. But  Dogberry's  mission  extended  farther  than 
that,  and  is  intimately  woven  with  delightful  unconscious- 
ness on  his  part  into  the  fortunes  of  Hero. 

Dogberry  is  not  only  immortal  for  that,  but  his  name 
will  never  die  so  long  as  village  communities  in  either  hem- 
isphere elect  their  guardians  of  the  peace  and  clothe  them 
in  verbose  terrors.  If  the  town  is  unfortunately  short  of 
rascals,  the  officer  will  fear  one  in  each  bush,  or  extem- 
porize one  out  of  some  unbelligerent  starveling  to  show  that 
the  majestic  instructions  of  his  townsmen  have  not  been 
wasted  on  him.  This  elaborate  inefficiency  is  frequently 
selected  by  busy  communities,  because  so  few  persons  are 
there  clumsy  enough  to  be  unemployed.  Such  a  vagrom 
is  easily  comprehended.  Dogberry  has  caught  up  the 
turns  and  idioms  of  sagacious  speech,  and  seems  to  be 
blowing  them  up  as  life-belts ;  so  he  goes  bobbing  helplessly 
around  in  the  froth  of  his  talk.  "I  leave  an  arrant  knave 
with  your  worship ;  which,  I  beseech  your  worship,  to  cor- 
rect yourself,  for  the  example  of  others.  I  humbly  give 
you  leave  to  depart ;  and  if  a  merry  meeting  may  be  wished, 
God  prohibit  it."  He  ties  his  conversation  in  hopeless 
knots  of  absurdity ;  when  pomp  takes  possession  of  a  vacu- 
ous mind,  it  rattles  like  the  jester's  bladder  of  dried  pease. 
Have  not  his  fellow-citizens  invested  him?  He  will  then 
lavish  the  selectest  phrases.  I  heard  a  village  politician 
once  say  with  scorn  in  town-meeting,  "Mr.  Moderator,  I 
know  nothing  about  your  technalities."  Dogberry  is  the 
most  original  of  Malaprops,  says  to  the  Prince's  order  that 
it  shall  be  suffigance,  and  tells  the  watch  that  salvation  were 
a  punishment  too  good  for  them,  if  they  should  have  any 
allegiance  in  them.  He  has  furnished  mankind  with  that 
adroit  phrase  of  conversational  escape  from  compromise, 
"Comparisons  are  odorous."  Where  common  men  would 
suspect  a  person,  Dogberry  says  the  person  is  auspicious. 


Comments  MUCH   ADQ 

His  brain  seems  to  be  web-footed,  and  tumbles  over  itself 
in  trying  to  reach  swimming  water;  as  when  he  says, 
"Masters,  it  is  proved  already  that  you  are  little  better 
than  false  knaves,  and  it  will  go  near  to  be  thought  so 
shortly."  This  is  the  precipitancy  of  a  child's  reasoning. 
— Weiss,  Wit,  Humor,  and  Shakspeare. 

DON  JOHN  AND  CLAUDIO 

The  modern  reader  recognizes  that  Shakespeare  has 
taken  no  small  pains  to  make  this  fable  dramatically  ac- 
ceptable. He  appreciates  the  fact  that  here  again,  in  the 
person  of  Don  John,  the  poet  has  depicted  mere  unmixed 
evil,  and  has  disdained  to  supply  a  motive  for  his  vile  ac- 
tion in  any  single  injury  received,  or  desire  unsatisfied. 
Don  John  is  one  of  the  sour,  envious  natures  which  suck 
poison  from  all  sources,  because  they  suffer  from  the  per- 
petual sense  of  being  unvalued  and  despised.  He  is,  for 
the  moment,  constrained  by  the  forbearance  with  which  his 
victorious  brother  has  treated  him,  but  "if  he  had  his 
mouth  he  would  bite."  And  he  does  bite,  like  the  cur  and 
coward  he  is,  and  makes  himself  scarce  when  his  villainy 
is  about  to  be  discovered.  He  is  an  ill-conditioned,  base, 
and  tiresome  scoundrel ;  and,  although  he  conscientiously 
does  evil  for  evil's  sake,  we  miss  in  him  all  the  defiant  and 
brilliantly  sinister  qualities  which  appear  later  on  in  lago 
and  in  Edmund.  There  is  little  to  object  to  in  Don  John's 
repulsive  scoundrelism ;  at  most  we  may  say  that  it  is  a 
strange  motive-power  for  a  comedy.  But  to  Claudio  we 
cannot  reconcile  ourselves.  He  allows  himself  to  be  con- 
vinced, by  the  clumsiest  stratagem,  that  his  young  bride, 
in  reality  as  pure  and  tender  as  a  flower,  is  a  faithless  crea- 
ture, who  deceives  him  the  very  day  before  her  marriage. 
Instead  of  withdrawing  in  silence,  he  prefers,  like  the  block- 
head he  is,  to  confront  her  in  the  church,  before  the  altar, 
and  in  the  hearing  of  every  one  overwhelm  her  with  coarse 
speeches  and  low  accusations ;  and  he  induces  his  patron, 
the  Prince  Don  Pedro,  and  even  the  lady's  own  father, 

XXX 


ABOUT   NOTHING  Comments 

Leonato,  to  join  him  in  heaping  upon  the  unhappy  bride 
their  idiotic  accusations.  When,  by  the  advice  of  the 
priest,  her  relatives  have  given  her  out  as  dead,  and  the 
worthy  old  Leonato  has  lied  up  hill  and  down  dale  about 
her  hapless  end,  Claudio,  who  now  learns  too  late  that  he 
has  been  duped,  is  at  once  taken  into  favor  again.  Leon- 
ato only  demands  of  him — in  accordance  with  the  mediaeval 
fable — that  he  shall  declare  himself  willing  to  marry  what- 
ever woman  he  (Leonato)  shall  assign  to  him.  This  he 
promises,  without  a  word  or  thought  about  Hero ;  where- 
upon she  is  placed  in  his  arms.  The  original  spectators,  no 
doubt,  found  this  solution  satisfactory ;  a  modern  audience 
is  exasperated  by  it,  very  much  as  Nora,  in  A  Doll's  House, 
is  exasperated  on  finding  that  Helmer,  after  the  danger 
has  passed  away,  regards  all  that  has  happened  in  their 
souls  as  though  it  had  never  been,  merely  because  the  sky 
is  clear  again.  If  ever  man  was  unworthy  a  woman's  love, 
that  man  is  Claudio.  If  ever  marriage  was  odious  and  ill- 
omened,  this  is  it.  The  old  taleteller's  invention  has  been 
too  much  even  for  Shakespeare's  art. — Brandes,  William 
Shakespeare. 

DON  JOHN 

Don  John  is  another  of  the  Shakspcrean  villains  whose 
nature  has  been  warped  by  their  circumstances.  He  is  a 
bastard  brother  of  Don  Pedro,  and  the  stinging  sense  of  his 
shameful  origin  has  turned  him  into  a  social  Ishmaelite, 
who  sees  in  every  man  a  natural  enemy.  Scowling  and  la- 
conic amidst  the  merry  company  gathered  under  Leonato's 
roof,  he  is  a  very  death's  head  at  a  feast.  He  has  lately 
become  reconciled  with  his  brother  after  a  quarrel,  and 
even  his  servant  advises  him  to  improve  the  occasion,  but  he 
sullenly  prefers  to  be  a  canker  in  the  hedge  than  a  rose  in 
Don  Pedro's  grace.  Amongst  Shakspere's  malefactors  he 
is  distinguished  by  his  complete  lack  of  humor  and  of  the 
kindred  power  to  dissemble  his  real  nature.     As  he  says 

himself,  "I  cannot  hide  what  I  am it  better  fits  my 

blood  to  be  disdained  of  all  than  to  fashion  a  carriage  to 

XX  xi 


Comments  MUCH   ADO 

rob  love  from  any."  It  would  seem  as  if  the  dramatist  in 
this  most  radiant  of  comedies  had  not  wished  to  focus  our 
attention  upon  the  villain  by  investing  him  with  the  fasci- 
nation which  underlies  evil-doing  masquerading  under  the 
guise  of  good-humored  honesty.  Moreover,  we  are  not  in- 
clined to  augur  very  disastrous  results  from  the  schemes 
of  a  mischief-maker  who  wears  his  heart  upon  his  sleeve  in 
so  transparent  a  fashion,  and  who  seems  so  ill-fitted  for  an 
intriguer's  part. — Boas,  Shakspere  and  his  Predecessors. 

CLAUDIO 

No  greater  mistake  can  be  made  than  to  judge  Shake- 
speare's lovers  bj'  our  modem  standard.  Their  love,  as 
well  as  their  jealousy,  is  infinitely'  more  ardent  and  glow- 
ing than  that  which  we  see  now-a-days,  whether  in  life  or 
in  literature.  Therefore,  it  ought  not  to  surprise  us  if 
the  expression  of  their  feelings  is  much  more  vigorous  and 
intense,  or  that  the  Poet  should  make  free  use  of  this  ex- 
pression without  attaching  to  it,  as  our  public  is  often 
tempted  to  do,  the  reproach  of  harshness  or  brutality. 
Moreover,  as  concerns  Claudio,  we  cannot  believe  that 
any  one  save  Bulthaupt  has  utterly  condemned  him.  The 
majority  of  readers  and  spectators  may  blame  his  conduct, 
but  they  judge  him  much  more  lenientl3\  The  pain  that 
quivers  in  Claudio's  every  word  in  the  church,  as  well  as  the 
intensity  of  his  remorse  aftenvards,  shown  in  his  readiness 
to  undergo  any  penance  that  may  be  imposed  upon  him  for 
his  misconduct,  prove  that  he  was  no  low  scoundrel,  but 
a  man  of  noble  mind  whose  temperament,  vehement  and 
prone  to  suspicion,  leads  him  astray.  Moreover,  from 
their  own  words,  we  can  perfectly  understand  how  Don 
Pedro  and  Claudio  are  driven  to  slander  Hero  publicly, 
thereby  insulting  her  father  also.  They  believe  that 
Leonato  was  aware  of  his  daughter's  vile  character,  and 
had  meant  to  take  advantage  of  their  ignorant  confidence. 
They  credit  him  with  betrayal  of  friendship.  Claudio  says 
to   the   father:     "Give   not   this    rotten    orange   to   your 


ABOUT    NOTHING  Comments 

friend"  ;  and  the  Prince  feels  himself  dishonored  in  his  part 
of  advocate: — "I  stand  dishonored  that  have  gone  about 
to  link  my  dear  friend  to  a  common  stale."  If  the  two 
friends  thought  themselves  thus  falsely  betrayed,  was  the 
revenge  that  they  took  in  publicly  branding  a  low  woman 
and  her  accomplices,  morally  wrong  or  merely  unbecom- 
ing? It  seems  certainly  surprising  that,  while  Hero,  even 
if  guilty,  is  to  be  treated  with  distinguished  courtesy,  so 
harsh  a  sentence  should  be  passed  upon  two  men,  who,  if 
they  erred,  did  so  from  a  noble  motive, — an  outraged  sense 
of  honor.  As  for  the  jesting  at  Benedick,  for  which 
Claudio  is  so  blamed,  at  such  a  time,  we  must  remember 
that  characters  as  impulsive,  as  those  of  Shakespeare,  need 
but  the  smallest  occasion,  in  the  midst  of  the  gravest  cir- 
cumstances, to  be  converted  to  extreme  gayety. — Wetz, 
Shakespeare  vom  Standpunkte  der  vergleicJienden  Liter- 
atur. 

DON  PEDRO'S  TACTICS 

Let  us  study  Don  Pedro's  tactics  more  closely  still. 
How  does  he  contrive  to  influence  the  antagonistic  personal- 
ities of  the  twain,  and,  although  their  attitude  hitherto  has 
been  almost  hostile,  to  make  lovers  of  them?  He  contrives 
it  by  forcing  them  to  overhear.  By  this  one  stroke  of  art, 
at  the  very  outset,  he  robs  them  of  all  their  peculiar  ad- 
vantages. Their  wit,  their  readiness  of  tongue,  all  their 
mental  dexterity,  and  volubility,  in  short  every  offensive 
and  defensive  weapon  of  which  they  have  hitherto  made  use 
to  ward  off  the  danger  of  any  deep  impression,  is  useless 
to  them ;  they  are  condemned  to  complete,  absolute  'pas- 
sivity, forced,  contrary  to  all  their  use  and  wont,  to  play 
the  part  of  silent  listeners. — Sievebs,  William  Shakespeare. 

MARGARET  AND  URSULA 

Margaret  and  Ursula  may  come  under  the  denomination 
of  "pattern  waiting-women," — that  is,  the  patterns  some- 
what surpassing  the  order  of  the  women.     Margaret  has 

xxxiii 


Comments  MUCH   ADO 

perhaps  too  accomplished  a  tongue  for  one  of  her  class ; 
she,  however,  evidently  apes  the  manner  of  Beatrice,  and, 
like  all  imitators  of  inferior  mind,  with  a  coarse  and  exag- 
gerated character.  She  forms  an  excellent  foil  to  her  mis- 
tress from  this  vex'y  circumstance;  and  both  domestics  are 
samples  of  that  menial  equality  that  exists  between  mistress 
and  dependant  still  common  in  Italy. — Clarke,  Shake- 
speare-Characters. 

EAVES-DROPPERS 

Those  persons,  for  whom  the  hearts  of  the  audience  are 
most  engaged,  have  scarce  one  event  to  aid  their  personal 
interest ;  every  occurrence  which  befalls  them  depends  solely 
on  the  pitiful  act  of  private  listening.  If  Benedick  and 
Beatrice  had  possessed  perfect  good  manners,  or  just  no- 
tions of  honor  and  delicacy,  so  as  to  have  refused  to  be- 
come eaves-droppers,  the  action  of  the  play  must  have  stood 
still,  or  some  better  method  have  been  contrived, — a  worse 
hardly  could, — to  have  imposed  on  their  mutual  credulity. 
But  this  willingness  to  overhear  conversations,  the  reader 
will  find  to  be  the  reigning  fashion  with  the  dramatis  per- 
sonce  of  this  play ;  for  there  are  nearly  as  many  unwar- 
rantable listeners,  as  there  are  characters  in  it.  But,  in 
whatever  failings  the  ill-bred  custom  of  Messina  may  have 
involved  Benedick  and  Beatrice,  they  are  both  highly  enter- 
taining and  most  respectable  personages.  They  are  so 
witty,  so  jocund,  so  free  from  care,  and  yet  so  sensible  of 
care  in  others,  that  the  best  possible  reward  is  conferred 
on  their  merit, — marriage  with  each  other. — Inchbald, 
British  Theatre. 


INSIPIDITY  OF  CHARACTERS 

Here  is  no  stuff  for  a  comedy.  A  girl  slandered  and  ill- 
treated  to  an  unutterable  extent  is  not  an  object  to  awaken 
merriment.  And  it  is  degrading  that  she  should  finally, 
without  hesitation,  marry  her  slanderer. 


ABOUT   NOTHING  Comments 

Consider  the  persons  concerned.  Here  is  Claudio,  a  vain 
coxcomb,  with  no  will  of  his  own.  What  can  poor  Hero 
expect  from  a  marriage  with  such  a  wretch.''  Here  is  the 
prince,  pervading  the  entire  play,  gossiping  interminably, 
and  never  arousing  in  us  the  faintest  sympathy.  He 
neither  attempts  nor  achieves  anything.  Here  is  the  gov- 
ernor, of  whom  the  same  may  be  said.  To  swell  the  crowd 
of  bores  he  has  a  brother,  Antonio,  so  old  that  he  "wag- 
gles his  head"  and  has  "dry  hands."  Here  is  the  rascally 
slanderer,  a  rascal  only  because  the  poet  chooses  him  to  be 
one ;  he  himself  has  no  reason  for  it.  Here  are  his  two 
accomplices,  rascals  also,  but  who,  when  they  are  caught 
and  questioned,  confess  everything  with  amiable  frankness. 
And  there  are  several  waiting  maids  running  about  through 
the  play.  All  these  persons  are  poetically  worthless,  for 
they  are  uninteresting,  nay,  well-nigh  tiresome.  We  can- 
not characterize  them,  unless  their  having  no  character  at 
all  Avill  serve  our  turn.  They  are  all  insipid. — Benepix, 
Die  Shakespearomanie. 

THE  THEME  OF  THE  PLAY 

The  characteristic  incident  of  the  play  is  much  ado,  aris- 
ing from  misconception  of  an  overheard  conference,  and 
ending  in  nothing  at  all.  This  theme,  with  the  forms  of 
incident,  and  of  mental  tendency  that  give  it  effect,  is 
varied  in  the  play  with  endless  or  rather  with  exhaustive 
diversity.  The  prince  and  Claudio,  placed  upon  the  watch 
by  Don  John,  whom  they  mistrust,  but  not  sufficiently,  mis- 
take the  identity  of  one  party  to  a  dialogue,  and  hence  are 
deceived  by  its  purport,  which  was  moreover  so  artfully 
expressed  as  to  deceive  in  another  way  the  person  it  was 
addressed  to.  Hence,  by  fault  of  haste  and  incaution,  the 
much  ado  which  causes  the  affliction  of  the  fair  bride, 
though  it  ultimately  comes  to  nothing  and  the  broken  en- 
gagement recloses  without  injury  or  scar.  Again,  in  an- 
other form,  Benedick  and  Beatrice  are  severally  placed  in 
ambush,  and  the  princes  and  ladies  carry  on  a  discourse 

XX  vV 


Comments  MUCH   ADO 

intended  to  be  overheard  by  them  without  suspicion  of  the 
purpose.  This  is  a  sportive  and  not  ill  intended  employ- 
ment of  the  same  stratagem ;  but  this  time  the  belief  con- 
veyed is  exaggerated  in  form  rather  than  false  in  fact, 
and  those  who  think  they  are  deceiving  are  to  a  certain 
extent,  telling  more  truth  than  they  are  'ware  of,  and  re- 
veal a  fact  when  they  think  to  forget  a  tale ;  hence,  again, 
ensueth  amusing  much  ado  and  cross  purpose — but  it  does 
not  end  in  nothing,  for  Benedick  and  Beatrice  marry. 
Still  the  spirit  of  the  play  is  vindicated,  for  we  find  that 
in  their  case  the  real  much  ado  in  truth  arose  from  an 
earlier  complication,  and  that  the  plot  and  management  of 
the  prince  was  all  supererogatory  contrivance  to  originate 
an  attachment  which  in  reality  existed  long  before.  Clau- 
dio  and  Benedick  both  therefore  would  have  saved  them- 
selves the  humiliation  of  regret  or  ridicule,  had  they  ob- 
served those  they  overheard  more  carefully,  criticised  more 
keenly  the  motives  of  their  informants,  and  kept  better 
watch  over  their  own  tendencies  to  accept  hasty  convic- 
tion ; — or  rather  let  us  say,  had  they  trusted  open  observa- 
tion rather  than  illicit  listening,  and  learned  to  interpret 
the  signs  of  a  true  heart  and  the  symptoms  of  a  melting, 
whether  their  own  or  another's,  by  proper  sympathy  rather 
than  second-hand  prompting.  Benedick  is  not  more  ex- 
travagant in  his  belief  by  hearsay  than  Claudio  in  his  mis- 
trust ;  both  are  wretchedly  inexperienced  in  the  course  and 
language  of  the  affections,  and  learn  a  lesson  that  will 
go  far  to  cure  them  of  some  unnecessary  indulgence  of 
mere  intellectual  exercise  and  artificial  banter.  The  mis- 
take of  Claudio  brings  the  course  of  the  plot  to  the  very 
brink  of  the  tragic,  and  the  misconceptions  of  Benedick 
and  Beatrice  to  the  very  verge  of  the  ridiculous ;  yet,  the 
fearful  and  the  farcical  are  equally  evaded,  and  both  ten- 
dencies blend  away  into  an  effect  of  the  purest  comedy. — 
Lloyd,  Critical  Essays. 


ABOUT   NOTHING  Comments 

SHAKESPEARE'S  MATERIALS 

These  were  happy  materials  for  Shakespear  to  work  on, 
and  he  has  made  a  happy  use  of  them.  Perhaps  that  mid- 
dle point  of  comedy  was  never  more  nicely  hit  in  which  the 
ludicrous  blends  with  the  tender,  and  our  follies,  turning 
round  against  themselves  in  support  of  our  affections,  re- 
tain nothing  but  their  humanity. — Hazlitt,  Characters  of 
Shakespear's  Play. 

INDEPENDENCE  OF  THE  DRAMATIC  INTEREST 
ON  THE  PLOT 

The  interest  in  the  plot  is  always  in  fact  on  account  of 
the  characters,  not  vice  versa,  as  in  almost  all  other  writ- 
ers ;  the  plot  is  a  mere  canvas  and  no  more.  Hence  arises 
the  true  justification  of  the  same  stratagem  being  used  in 
regard  to  Benedick  and  Beatrice, — the  vanity  in  each  be- 
ing alike.  Take  away  from  the  Much  Ado  About  Noth- 
ing all  that  which  is  not  indispensable  to  the  plot,  either 
as  having  little  to  do  with  it,  or,  at  best,  like  Dogberry 
and  his  comrades,  forced  into  the  service,  when  any  other 
less  ingeniously  absurd  watchmen  and  night-constables 
would  have  answered  the  mere  necessities  of  the  action ; — 
take  away  Benedick,  Beatrice,  Dogberry,  and  the  reaction 
of  the  former  on  the  character  of  Hero, — and  what  will 
remain?  In  other  writers  the  main  agent  of  the  plot  is  al- 
ways the  prominent  character;  in  Shakspere  it  is  so,  or 
is  not  so,  as  the  character  is  in  itself  calculated,  or  not 
calculated,  to  form  the  plot.  Don  John  is  the  main-spring 
of  the  plot  of  this  play ;  but  he  is  merely  shown  and  then 
withdrawn. 

Hence  Shakspere  never  took  the  trouble  of  inventing 
stories.  It  was  enough  for  him  to  select  from  those  that 
had  been  already  invented  or  recorded  such  as  had  one  or 
other,  or  both,  of  two  recommendations,  namely,  suitable- 
ness to  his  particular  purpose,  and  their  being  parts  of 
popular  tradition,— names  of  v.hich  we  had  often  heard,  and 

xxxvii 


Comments     MUCH  ADO  ABOUT  NOTHING 

of  their  fortunes,  and  as  to  which  all  we  wanted  was,  to  see 
the  man  himself. — Coleridge,  Lectures. 


THE  DRAMATIC  ELEMENTS 

Let  us  admire  the  marvellous  blending  of  the  three  dra- 
matic elements ;  we  may  almost  call  them  the  tragedy  of 
Hero,  the  comedy  of  Beatrice,  and  the  farce  of  Dogberry ; 
with  what  art  are  these  three  contrasted  and  combined. — 
Luce,  Handbook  to  Shakespeare's  Works. 


XXXVlll 


MUCH  ADO  ABOUT  NOTHING 


DRAMATIS  PERSONiE 

Don  Pedro,  prince  of  Arragon 
Don  John,  his  bastard  brother 
Claudio,  a  young  lord  of  Florence 
Benedick,  a  young  lord  of  Padua 
I^EONATO,  governor  of  Messina 
Antonio,  his  brother 
Balthasar,  attendant  on  Don  Pedro 

CONRADE,      )f^ll^^g^g    ^f    pO„    Jf,J^J^ 
BOHACHIO,  y 

Friar  Francis 
Dogberry,  a  constable 
Verges,  a  headborough 
A  Sexton 
A  Boy 

Hero,  daughter  to  Leonato 

Beatrice,  niece  to  Leonato 

Margaret,  )  ^,  .^      ,.  „ 

jy  \  gentlewomen  attending  on  Hero 

Messengers,  Watch,  Attendants,  &c. 
Scene:  Messina 


SYNOPSIS 

By  J.  E1.LIS  BuRDicK 

ACT    I 

Don  Pedro,  prince  of  Arragon,  Claudio,  a  young  lord 
of  Florence,  and  Benedick,  a  young  nobleman  of  Padua, 
are  returning  from  a  war  just  ended  and  stop  in  Messina 
to  visit  the  governor,  Leonato.  Living  in  the  governor's 
palace  are  two  young  ladies:  Hero,  the  daughter  of  the 
governor,  and  Beatrice,  his  niece.  Between  Benedick  and 
Beatrice  "there  is  a  kind  of  merry  war"  and  at  this  meet- 
ing the  "skirmish  of  wit"  continues.  Claudio's  old  attrac- 
tion for  Hero  ripens  into  love  and  Don  Pedro  promises  him 
his  aid  in  winning  the  lady. 

ACT    II 

Leonato  gives  a  masquerade  dance  in  honor  of  his  guests 
and  Don  Pedro  takes  advantage  of  his  disguise  to  plead 
for  Claudio  with  Hero.  Don  John,  a  natural  brother  of 
Don  Pedro,  tries  to  persuade  Claudio  that  the  prince  is 
pla3nng  him  false.  This  scheme  fails,  for  Leonato  prom- 
ises his  daughter  to  Claudio,  but  Don  John  concocts  a 
deeper  plot.  Beatrice  teases  Benedick  so  much  that  he  de- 
sires to  cut  short  his  visit.  Their  friends  decide  that  they 
would  be  well  mated  and  plan  to  arouse  their  affections  for 
each  other.  They  cause  Benedick  to  overhear  that  Bea- 
trice is  in  love  with  him. 

ACT  rn 

In  the  same  manner  Beatrice  is  informed  of  Benedick's 
love  for  her.     The  night  before  Hero  and  Claudio  are  to 

3 


Synopsis      MUCH  ADO  ABOUT  NOTHING 

be  married,  Don  John  brings  the  prince  and  Claudio  be- 
neath Hero's  window,  where  they  see  and  hear  Borachio, 
a  follower  of  Don  John,  talking  with  Hero's  maid,  Mar- 
garet. Don  John  makes  his  companions  believe  that  it  is 
Hero  having  a  secret  meeting  with  another  lover.  Some 
watchmen  overhear  Borachio  bragging  of  his  share  in  this 
plot,  and  they  arrest  him  and  take  him  before  the  consta- 
ble. The  constable  tries  to  tell  Leonato  about  Don  John's 
plot,  but  Leonato,  in  the  confusion  incident  to  the  wed- 
ding, pays  no  heed  to  what  the  constable  tells  him. 

ACT    IV 

Claudio  repudiates  Hero  at  the  altar.  Hero  swoons  and 
by  the  advice  of  the  officiating  friar,  Leonato  announces 
that  she  is  dead.  Benedick  declares  his  love  for  Beatrice 
and  she  confesses  hers  for  him.  Believing  in  the  innocence 
of  Hero,  Beatrice  demands  that  he  avenge  Hero  by  slaying 
Claudio. 

ACT    V 

Leonato,  in  his  grief  and  anger,  desires  to  fight  Claudio. 
At  that  moment  Benedick  enters  and  challenges  both  the 
prince  and  Claudio.  The  watchmen  bring  Borachio  be- 
fore the  prince  and  Leonato,  and  he  tells  them  of  the  plot 
of  Don  John  and  of  Hero's  innocence.  Claudio  is  over- 
come with  grief  and  promises  to  perform  any  penance 
which  Leonato  shall  inflict  on  him.  The  governor  says 
Claudio  must  marry  his  niece,  who  is  "almost  the  copy  of" 
his  "child  that's  dead."  Great  is  Claudio's  joy  when  he 
finds  this  unknown  lady  to  be  no  other  than  the  Hero  whom 
he  had  believed  dead.  Beatrice  and  Benedick  are  told  of 
the  trick  that  has  been  played  on  them,  but  they  do  not 
regret  it  and  continue  to  love^^one  another. 


MUCH  ADO  ABOUT  NOTHING 

ACT  FIRST 

Scene  I 

Before  Leonato's  house, 

Enter  JLeonato,  Hero,  and  Beatrice,  with 
a  Messenger. 

Leon.  I  learn  in  this  letter  that  Don  Pedro  of 
Arragon  comes  this  night  to  Messina. 

Mess.  He  is  very  near  by  this :  he  was  not  three 
leagues  off  when  I  left  him. 

Leon.  How  many  gentlemen  have  you  lost  in 
this  action? 

Mess.  But  few  of  any  sort,  and  none  of  name. 

Leon.  A  victory  is  twice  itself  when  the  achiever 
brings  home  full  numbers.     I  find  here  that 
^       Don  Pedro  hath  bestowed  much  honor  on  a   10 
f        young  Florentine  called  Claudio. 

Mess.  Much  deserved  on  his  part,  and  equally 
remembered  by  Don  ^edro:  he  hath  borne 
himself  beyond  the  promise  of  his  age;  do- 
ing, in  the  figure  of  a  lamb,  the  feats  of  a 

Hon :  he  hath  indeed  better  bettered  expecta- 

/ 

/  16.  "better  bettered";  more  surpassed. — C.  H.  H, 

/.  5  .  • 


Act  I.  Sc.  i.  MUCH  ADO 

tion  tlian  you  must  expect  of  me  to  tell  you 
how. 

Leon.  He  hath  an  uncle  here  in  Messina  will  be 
very  much  glad  of  it.  20 

Mess,  I  have  already  dehvered  him  letters,  and 
there  appears  much  joy  in  him;  even  so 
much,  that  joy  could  not  show  itself  modest 
enough  without  a  badge  of  bitterness. 

Leon.  Did  he  break  out  into  tears  ? 

Mess.  In  great  measure. 

Leon.  A  kind  overflow  of  kindness:  there  are 
no  faces  truer  than  those  that  are  so  washed. 
How  much  better  is  it  to  weep  at  joy  than 
to  joy  at  weeping!  30 

Beat.  I  pray  you,  is  Signior  Mountanto  re- 
turned from  the  wars  or  no? 

Mess.  I  know  none  of  that  name,  lady:  there 
was  none  such  in  the  army  of  any  sort. 

Leon.  What  is  he  that  you  ask  for,  niece? 

Hero.  My  cousin  means  Signior  Benedick  of 
Padua. 

Mess.  O,  he  's  returned ;  and  as  pleasant  as  ever 
he  was. 

Beat.  He  set  up  his  bills  here  in  JSlessina  and  40 
challenged  Cupid  at  the  flight;  and  my 
uncle's  fool,  reading  the  challenge,  sub- 
scribed for  Cupid,  and  challenged  him  at 
the  bird-bolt.  I  pray  you,  how  many  hath 
he  killed  and  eaten  in  these  wars?  But  how 
many  hath  he  killed  ?  for,  indeed,  I  promised 
to  eat  all  of  his  killing. 

42.  "subscribed";  signed. — C.  H.  H.  \ 

6  \ 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  I.  Sc.  i. 

Leon.  Faith,  niece,  you  tax  Signior  Benedick 
too  much ;  but  he  '11  be  meet  with  you,  I 
doubt  it  not.  50 

Mess.  He  hath  done  good  service,  lady,  in  these 
wars. 

Beat.  You  had  musty  victual,  and  he  hath  holp 
to  eat  it:  he  is  a  very  valiant  trencher-man; 
he  hath  an  excellent  stomach. 

Mess.  And  a  good  soldier  too,  lady. 

Beat.  And  a  good  soldier  to  a  lady ;  but  what  is 
he  to  a  lord  ? 

Mess.  A  lord  to  a  lord,  a  man  to  a  man ;  stuffed 
with  all  honorable  virtues.  60 

Beat.  It  is  so,  indeed;  he  is  no  less  than  a 
stuffed  man :  but  for  the  stuffing, — well,  we 
are  all  mortal. 

Leon.  You  must  not,  sir,  mistake  my  niece. 
There  is  a  kind  of  merry  war  betwixt  Sig- 
nior Benedick  and  her:  they  never  meet  but 
there  's  a  skirmish  of  wit  between  them. 

Beat.  Alas!  he  gets  nothing  by  that.  In  our 
last  conflict  four  of  his  five  wits  went  halting 
off,  and  now  is  the  whole  man  governed 
with  one:  so  that  if  he  have  wit  enough  to 
keep  himself  warm,  let  him  bear  it  for  a  dif- 
ference between  himself  and  his  horse ;  for  it 
is  all  the  wealth  that  he  hath  left,  to  be 
known  a  reasonable  creature.     Who  is  his 

62.  Mede,  in  his  discourses  on  Scripture,  speaking  of  Adam,  says, 
"He  whom  God  had  stuffed  with  so  many  excellent  qualities." 
Beatrice  starts  an  idea  at  the  words  stuffed  man,  and  prudently 
checks  herself  in  the  pursuit  of  it.  A  stuffed  man  appears  to  have 
been  one  of  the  many  cant  phrases  for  a  cuckold. — H.  N.  H. 

7 


70 


Act  I.  Sc.  i.  MUCH  ADO 

companion  now?     He  hath  every  month  a 

new  sworn  brother. 
Mess.     Is  't  possible  ? 
Beat.  Very  easily  possible:  he  wears  his  faith 

but  as  the  fashion  of  his  hat ;  it  ever  changes   80 

with  the  next  block. 
Mess.  I  see,  lady,  the  gentleman  is  not  in  your 

books. 
Beat.  No ;  an  he  were,  I  would  burn  my  study. 

But,  I  pray  you,  who  is  his  companion?     Is 

there  no  young  squarer  now  that  will  make  a 

voyage  with  him  to  the  devil? 
Mess.  He  is  most  in  the  company  of  the  right 

noble  Claudio. 
Beat.  O  Lord,  he  will  hang  upon  him  like  a  dis-   90 

ease :  he  is  sooner  caught  than  the  pestilence, 

and  the  taker  runs   presently  mad.     God 

help  the  noble  Claudio !  if  he  have  caught  the 

Benedick,  it  will  cost  him  a  thousand  pound 

ere  a'  be  cured. 
Mess.  I  will  hold  friends  with  you,  lady. 
Beat.  Do,  good  friend. 
Leon.  You  will  never  run  mad,  niece. 
Beat.  No,  not  till  a  hot  January. 
Mess.  Don  Pedro  is  approached.  100 

Enter  Don  Pedro,  Don  John,  Claudio ^ 
Benedick  and  Balthasar. 

D.  Pedro.  Good  Signior  Leonato,  you  are  come 
to  meet  your  trouble:  the  fashion  of  the 
world  is  to  avoid  cost,  and  you  encounter  it. 

Leon.  Never  came  trouble  to  my  house  in  the 

8 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  1.  Sc.  i. 

likeness  of  your  Grace:  for  trouble  being 
gone,  comfort  should  remain ;  but  when  you 
depart  from  me,  sorrow  abides,  and  happi- 
ness takes  his  leave. 

!D.  Pedro.  You  embrace  your  charge  too  will- 
ingly.    I  think  this  is  your  daughter.  110 

Leon.  Her  mother  hath  many  times  told  me  so. 

Bene.  Were  you  in  doubt,  sir,  that  you  asked 
her? 

Leon.  Signior  Benedick,  no ;  for  then  were  you 
a  child. 

D.  Pedro.  You  have  it  full.  Benedick:  we 
may  guess  by  this  what  you  are,  being  a  man. 
Truly,  the  lady  fathers  herself.  Be  happy, 
lady;  for  you  are  like  an  honorable  father. 

Bene.  If  Signior  Leonato  be  her  father,  she  120 
would  not  have  his  head  on  her  shoulders 
for  all  Messina,  as  like  him  as  she  is. 

Beat.  I  wonder  that  you  will  still  be  talking, 
Signior  Benedick:  nobody  marks  you. 

Bene.  What,  my  dear  Lady  Disdain!  are  you 
yet  living? 

Beat.  Is  it  possible  disdain  should  die  while  she 
hath  such  meet  food  to  feed  it,  as  Signior 
Benedick?  Courtesy  itself  must  convert  to 
disdain,  if  you  come  in  her  presence.  130 

Bene.  Then  is  courtesy  a  turncoat.  But  it  is 
certain  I  am  loved  of  all  ladies,  only  you  ex- 
cepted :  and  I  would  I  could  find  in  my  heart 
that  I  had  not  a  hard  heart;  for,  truly,  I 
love  none. 

129.  "convert";  be  converted.— C.  H.  H. 
9 


Act  I.  Sc.  i.  MUCH  ADO 

Beat.  A  dear  happiness  to  women :  they  would 
else  have  been  troubled  with  a  pernicious 
suitor.  I  thank  God  and  my  cold  blood,  I 
am  of  your  humor  for  that:  I  had  rather 
hear  my  dog  bark  at  a  crow  than  a  man  140 
swear  he  loves  me. 

Bene.  God  keep  your  ladyship  still  in  that 
mind!  so  some  gentleman  or  other  shall 
'scape  a  predestinate  scratched  face. 

Beat.  Scratching  could  not  make  it  worse,  an 
'twere  such  a  face  as  yours  were. 

Bene.  Well,  you  are  a  rare  parrot -teacher. 

Beat.  A  bird  of  my  tongue  is  better  than  a  beast 
of  yours. 

Bene.  I  would  my  horse  had  the  speed  of  your  150 
tongue,  and  so  good  a  continuer.     But  keep 
your  way,  i'  God's  name;  I  have  done. 

Beat.  You  always  end  with  a  jade's  trick:  I 
know  you  of  old. 

Z).  Pedro.  That  is  the  sum  of  all,  Leonato. 
Signior  Claudio  and  Signior  Benedick,  my 
dear  friend  Leonato  hath  invited  you  all.  I 
tell  him  we  shall  stay  here  at  the  least  a 
month;  and  he  heartily  prays  some  occasion 
may  detain  us  longer.  I  dare  swear  he  is  no  160 
hypocrite,  but  prays  from  his  heart. 

Leon.  If  you  swear,  my  lord,  you  shall  not  be 
forsworn.  [To  Don  John~\  Let  me  bid 
you  welcome,  my  lord:  being  reconciled  to 
the  prince  your  brother,  I  owe  you  all  duty. 

Z).  John.  I  thank  you:  I  am  not  of  many 
words,  but  I  thank  you. 

10 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  I.  Sc.  i. 

Leon.  Please  it  your  Grace  lead  on? 

D.  Pedro,  Your  hand,  Leonato;  we  will  go  to- 
gether. 170 
{Exeunt  all  except  Benedick  and  Claudia, 

Claud.  Benedick,  didst  thou  note  the  daughter 
of  Signior  Leonato? 

Bene.  I  noted  her  not ;  but  I  looked  on  her. 

Claud.  Is  she  not  a  modest  young  lady  ? 

Bene.  Do  you  question  me,  as  an  honest  man 
should  do,  for  my  simple  true  judgment? 
or  would  you  have  me  speak  after  my  cus- 
tom, as  being  a  professed  tyrant  to  their 
sex? 

Claud.  No;  I  pray  thee  speak  in  sober  judg- 180 
ment. 

Bene.  Why,  i'  faith,  methinks  she  's  too  low  for 
a  high  praise,  too  brown  for  a  fair  praise, 
and  too  little  for  a  great  praise:  only  this 
commendation  I  can  afford  her,  that  were 
she  other  than  she  is,  she  were  unhandsome; 
and  being  no  other  but  as  she  is,  I  do  not  like 
her. 

Claud.  Thou  thinkest  I  am  in  sport :  I  pray  thee 
tell  me  truly  how  thou  likest  her.  190 

Bene.  Would  you  buy  her,  that  you  inquire 
after  her? 

Claud.    Can  the  world  buy  such  a  jewel? 

Bene.  Yea,  and  a  case  to  j)ut  it  into.  But  speak 
you  this  with  a  sad  brow  ?  or  do  you  play  the 
flouting  Jack,  to  tell  us  Cupid  is  a  good 
hare-finder,  and  Vulcan  a  rare  carpenter? 


11 


Act  I.  Sc.  i.  MUCH  ADO 

Come,  in  what  key  shall  a  man  take  you,  to 
go  in  the  song  ? 

Claud.  In  mine  eye  she  is  the  sweetest  lady  that  200 
ever  I  looked  on. 

Bene.  I  can  see  yet  without  spectacles,  and  I 
see  no  such  matter :  there  's  her  cousin,  an 
she  were  not  possessed  with  a  fury,  exceeds 
her  as  much  in  beauty  as  the  first  of  May 
doth  the  last  of  December.  But  I  hope  you 
have  no  intent  to  turn  husband,  have  you? 

Claud.  I  would  scarce  trust  myself,  though  I 
had  sworn  the  contrary,  if  Hero  would  be 
my  wife.  210 

Bene.  Is  't  come  to  this?  In  faith,  hath  not  the 
world  one  man  but  he  will  wear  his  cap  with 
suspicion?  Shall  I  never  see  a  bachelor  of 
threescore  again?  Go  to,  i'  faith;  an  thou 
wilt  needs  thrust  thy  neck  into  a  yoke,  wear 
the  print  of  it,  and  sigh  away  Sundays. 
Look;  Don  Pedro  is  returned  to  seek  you. 

He-enter  Don  Pedro. 

D.  Pedro.  What  secret  hath  held  you  here,  that 
you  followed  not  to  Leonato's? 

Bene.  I  would  your  Grace  would  constrain  me  220 
to  tell. 

D.  Pedro.  I  charge  thee  on  thy  allegiance. 

Bene.  You  hear.  Count  Claudio :  I  can  be  secret 
as  a  dumb  man ;  I  would  have  you  think  so ; 
but,  on  my  allegiance,  mark  you  this,  on  my 
allegiance.  He  is  in  love.  With  who  ?  now 
that  is  your  Grace's  part.     Mark  how  short 

12 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  i.  Sc.  i. 

his  answer  is; — With  Hero,  Leonato's  short 

daughter. 
Claud.  If  this  were  so,  so  were  it  uttered.        230 
Bene.  Like  the  old  tale,  my  lord:  'it  is  not  so, 

nor  'twas  not  so,  but,  indeed,  God  forbid  it 

should  be  so.' 
Claud.  If  my  passion  change  not  shortly,  God 

forbid  it  should  be  otherwise. 
D.  Pedro.  Amen,  if  you  love  her;  for  the  lady 

is  very  well  worthy. 
Claud.  You  speak  this  to  fetch  me  in,  my  lord. 
D.  Pedro.  By  my  troth,  I  speak  my  thought. 
Claud.  And,  in  faith,  my  lord,  I  spoke  mine.     240 
Bene.  And,  by  my  two  faiths  and  troths,  my 

lord,  I  spoke  mine. 
Claud.  That  I  love  her,  I  feel. 
D.  Pedro.  That  she  is  worthy,  I  know. 
Bene.  That  I  neither  feel  how  she  should  be 

loved,  nor  know  how  she  should  be  worthy,  is 

the  opinion  that  fire  cannot  melt  out  of  me :  I 

will  die  in  it  at  the  stake. 
D.  Pedro.  Thou  wast  ever  an  obstinate  heretic 

in  the  despite  of  beauty.  250 

Claud.  And  never  could  maintain  his  part  but 

in  the  force  of  his  will. 
Bene.  That  a  woman  conceived  me,  I  thank  her ; 

that  she  brought  me  up,  I  likewise  give  her 

230.  "uttered";  proclaimed.— C.  H.  H. 

231.  The  English  story  of  "Mr.  Fox"  alluded  to  here  was  first 
written  down  by  Blakeway,  who  contributed  to  Malone's  Variorum 
Edition  a  version  of  the  tale  he  had  heard  from  an  old  aunt  (rp. 
Jacobs'  English  Fairy  Tales). — I.  G. 

250.  "in  the  despite  of";  in  aversion  from. — C.  H.  H. 

13 


Act  I.  Sc.  i.  MUCH  ADO 

most  humble  thanks:  but  that  I  will  have  a 
recheat  winded  in  my  forehead,  or  hang  my 
bugle  in  an  invisible  baldrick,  all  women  shall 
pardon  me.  Because  I  will  not  do  them  the 
wrong  to  mistrust  any,  I  will  do  myself  the 
right  to  trust  none ;  and  the  fine  is,  for  the  260 
which  I  may  go  the  finer,  I  will  live  a  bach- 
elor. 

D.  Pedro.  I  shall  see  thee,  ere  I  die,  look  pale 
with  love. 

Bene.  With  anger,  with  sickness,  or  with  hun- 
ger, my  lord ;  not  with  love :  prove  that  ever 
I  lose  more  blood  with  love  than  I  will  get 
again  with  drinking,  pick  out  mine  eyes  with 
a  ballad-maker's  pen,  and  hang  me  up  at  the 
door  of  a  brothel-house  for  the  sign  of  blind  270 
Cupid. 

D.  Pedro.  Well,  if  ever  thou  dost  fall  from  this 
faith,  thou  wilt  prove  a  notable  argimient. 

Bene.  If  I  do,  hang  me  in  a  bottle  like  a  cat, 
and  shoot  at  me ;  and  he  that  hits  me,  let  him 
be  clapped  on  the  shoulder  and  called  Adam. 

D.  Pedro.  Well,  as  time  shall  try : 

'In  time  the  savage  bull  doth  bear  the  yoke.* 

Bene.  The  savage  bull  may ;  but  if  ever  the  sen- 
sible Benedick  bear  it,  pluck  off  the  bull's  280 
horns,  and  set  them  in  my  forehead :  and  let 
me  be  vilely  painted;  and  in  such  great  let- 
ters as  they  write  'Here  is  good  horse  to  hire,' 

252.  "force  of  his  will";  alluding  to  the  definition  of  a  heretic  in 
the  schools. — H.  N.  H. 

278.  "In  time  the  savage  bull,"  etc.;  this  line  is  from  The  Spanish 
Tragedy.— H.  N.  H. 

14 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  i.  Sc.  i. 

let  them  signify  under  my  sign  'Here  j^ou 
may  see  Benedick  the  married  man.' 

Claud.  If  this  should  ever  happen,  thou  wouldst 
be  horn-mad. 

D.  Pedro.  Nay,  if  Cupid  have  not  spent  all  his 
quiver  in  Venice,  thou  wilt  quake  for  this 
shortly.  290 

Bene.  I  look  for  an  earthquake  too,  then. 

D.  Pedro.  Well,  you  will  temporize  with  the 
hours.  In  the  meantime,  good  Signior 
Benedick,  repair  to  Leonato's :  commend  me 
to  him,  and  tell  him  I  will  not  fail  him  at  sup- 
per; for  indeed  he  hath  made  great  prei)a- 
ration. 

Bene.  I  have  almost  matter  enough  in  me  for 
such  an  embassage;  and  so  I  commit  you — 

Claud.  To  the  tuition  of  God :  From  my  house,  300 
if  I  had  it, — 

D.  Pedro.  The  sixth  of  July:  Your  loving 
friend.  Benedick. 

Bene.  Nay,  mock  not,  mock  not.  The  body  of 
your  discourse  is  sometime  guarded  with 
fragments,  and  the  guards  are  but  slightly 
basted  on  neither:  ere  you  flout  old  ends  any 
further,  examine  your  conscience:  and  so  I 
leave  you.  [JExit^ 

Claud.  My  liege,  your  highness  now  may  do  me 
good.  310 

D.  Pedro.  My  love  is  thine  to  teach:  teach  it  but 
how, 
And  thou  shalt  see  how  apt  it  is  to  learn 

■2%!.  "horn  mad";  mn(\  like  a  bull.— C.  H.  H. 


Act  I.  Sc.  i.  MUCH  ADO 

Any  hard  lesson  that  may  do  thee  good. 

Claud.  Hath  Leonato  any  son,  my  lord? 

Z).  Pedro.  No  child  but  Hero ;  she  's  his  only  heir. 
Dost  thou  affect  her,  Claudio? 

Claud.  O,  my  lord, 

When  you  went  onward  on  this  ended  action, 
I  look'd  upon  her  with  a  soldier's  eye. 
That  liked,  but  had  a  rougher  task  in  hand 
Than  to  drive  liking  to  the  name  of  love:      320 
But  now  I  am  return'd  and  that  war-thoughts 
Have  left  their  places  vacant,  in  their  rooms 
Come  thronging  soft  and  delicate  desires. 
All  prompting  me  how  fair  young  Hero  is. 
Saying,  I  Hked  her  ere  I  went  to  wars. 

Z>.  Pedro.  Thou  wilt  be  like  a  lover  presently, 
And  tire  the  hearer  with  a  book  of  words. 
If  thou  dost  love  fair  Hero,  cherish  it ; 
And  I  will  break  with  her  and  with  her  father. 
And  thou  shalt  have  her.     Was  't  not  to  this  end 
That  thou  began'st  to  twist  so  fine  a  story?      331 

Claud.  How  sweetly  you  do  minister  to  love, 
That  know  love's  grief  by  his  complexion! 
But  lest  my  liking  might  too  sudden  seem, 
I  would  have  salved  it  with  a  longer  treatise. 

£).  Pedro.  What  need  the  bridge  much  broader 
than  the  flood  ? 
The  fairest  grant  is  the  necessity. 
Look,  what  will  serve  is  fit :  'tis  once,  thou  lovest. 
And  I  will  fit  thee  with  the  remedy. 

338.  "'tis  once,  thou  lovest";  that  is,  once  for  all.  So,  in  Corio- 
lamis:  "Once  if  he  do  require  our  voices,  we  ought  not  to  deny 
him."— H.  N.  H. 

16  V 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  I.  Sc.  ii. 

I  know  we  shall  have  reveling  to-night:        340 
I  will  assume  thy  part  in  some  disguise, 
And  tell  fair  Hero  I  am  Claudio; 
And  in  her  bosom  I  '11  unclasp  my  heart, 
And  take  her  hearing  prisoner  with  the  force 
And  strong  encounter  of  my  amorous  tale: 
Then  after  to  her  father  will  I  break ; 
And  the  conclusion  is,  she  shall  be  thine. 
In  practice  let  us  put  it  presently.    [Exeunt. 


Scene  II 

^A  room  in  Leonato's  house 
Enter  Leonato  and  Antonio,  meeting, 

Leon.  How  now,  brother !  Where  is  my  cousin, 
your  son?  hath  he  provided  this  music? 

Ant.  He  is  very  busy  about  it.  But,  brother,  I 
can  tell  you  strange  news,  that  you  yet 
dreamt  not  of. 

Leon.  Are  they  good  ? 

Ant.  As  the  event  stamps  them:  but  they  have  a 
good  cover;  they  show  well  outward.  The 
prince  and  Count  Claudio,  walking  in  a 
thick-pleached  alley  in  mine  orchard,  were  10 
thus  much  overheard  by  a  man  of  mine :  the 
prince  discovered  to  Claudio  that  he  loved 
my  niece  your  daughter,  and  meant  to  ac- 
knowledge it  this  night  in  a  dance;  and  if  he 

found  her  (accordant,  he  meant  to  take  the 
XIX— 2  17 


20 


Act  I.  Sc.  iii.  MUCH  ADO 

present  time  by  the  top,  and  instantly  break 
with  you  of  it. 

Leon.  Hath  the  fellow  any  wit  that  told  you 
this? 

Ant,  A  good  sharp  fellow:  I  will  send  for  him; 
and  question  him  yourself. 

Leon.  No,  no;  we  will  hold  it  as  a  dream  till  it 
appear  itself :  but  I  will  acquaint  my  daugh- 
ter withal,  that  she  may  be  the  better  pre- 
pared for  an  answer,  if  peradventure  this  be 
true.  Go  you  and  tell  her  of  it.  [Enter  at- 
tendants.] Cousins,  you  know  what  you 
have  to  do.  O,  I  cry  you  mercy,  friend;  go 
you  with  me,  and  I  will  use  your  skill.  Good 
cousin,  have  a  care  this  busy  time.  [Exeunt. 


30 


Scene  III 

The  same. 
Enter  Don  John  and  Conrade. 

Con.  What  the  good-year,  my  lord !  why  are  you 
thus  out  of  measure  sad? 

D.  John.  There  is  no  measure  in  the  occasion 
that  breeds ;  therefore  the  sadness  is  without 
limit. 

Con.  You  should  hear  reason. 

D.  John.  And  when  I  have  heard  it,  what  bless- 
ing brings  it? 

26.     uUenilftnis";  these  must  be  supposed  to  be  dependent  relatives 
of  Leonato's.     The  next  words  are  addressed  to  them.— C.  H.  H. 

IS 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  i.  Sc.  in. 

Con.  If  not  a  present  remedy,  at  least  a  patient 
sufferance.  10 

Z).  John.  I  wonder  that  thou,  being  (as  thou 
sayest  thou  art)  born  under  Saturn,  goest 
about  to  apply  a  moral  medicine  to  a  morti- 
fying mischief.  I  cannot  hide  what  I  am: 
I  must  be  sad  when  I  have  cause,  and  smile 
at  no  man's  jests;  eat  when  I  have  stomach, 
and  wait  for  no  man's  leisure;  sleep  when  I 
am  drowsy,  and  tend  on  no  man's  business; 
laugh  when  I  am  merry,  and  claw  no  man  in 
his  humor.  20 

Con.  Yea,  but  you  must  not  make  the  full  show 
of  this  till  you  may  do  it  without  control- 
ment.  You  have  of  late  stood  out  against 
your  brother,  and  he  hath  ta'en  you  newly 
into  his  grace;  where  it  is  impossible  you 
should  take  true  root  but  by  the  fair  weather 
that  you  make  yourself:  it  is  needful  that 
you  frame  the  season  for  your  own  harvest. 

Z).  John.  I  had  rather  be  a  canker  in  a  hedge 
than  a  rose  in  his  grace ;  and  it  better  fits  my  30 
blood  to  be  disdained  of  all  than  to  fashion 
a  carriage  to  rob  love  from  any:  in  this, 
though  I  cannot  be  said  to  be  a  flattering 
honest  man,  it  must  not  be  denied  but  I  am  a 
plain-dealing  villain.  I  am  trusted  with  a 
muzzle,  and  enfranchised  with  a  clog ;  there- 
fore I  have  decreed  not  to  sing  in  my  cage. 
If  I  had  my  mouth,  I  would  bite;  if  I  had 
my  liberty,  I  would  do  my  liking:  in  the 

19 


50 


Act  I.  Sc.  iii.  MUCH  ADO 

meantime  let  me  be  that  I  am,  and  seek  not  to  40 

alter  me. 
Con.  Can  you  make  no  use  of  your  discontent? 
D.  John.  I  make  all  use  of  it,  for  I  use  it  only. 

Who  comes  here? 

Enter  Borachio. 

What  news,  Borachio? 
Bora.  I  came  yonder  from  a  great  supper:  the 

prince  your  brother  is  royally  entertained  by 

Leonato;  and  I  can  give  you  intelligence 

of  an  intended  marriage. 
D.  John.  Will  it  serve  for  any  model  to  build 

mischief  on?     What  is  he  for  a  fool  that 

betroths  himself  to  unquietness? 
Bora.  Marry,  it  is  your  brother's  right  hand. 
Z).  John.  Who?  the  most  exquisite  Claudio? 
Bora.  Even  he. 
D.  John.  A    proper    squire!     And    who,    and 

who?  which  way  looks  he? 
Bora.  Marry,  on  Hero,  the  daughter  and  heir 

of  Leonato. 
D.  John.  A  very  forward  March-chick!    How 

came  you  to  this  ? 
Bora.  Being  entertained  for  a  perfumer,  as  I 

was  smoking  a  musty  room,  comes  me  the 

prince  and  Claudio,  hand  in  hand,  in  sad  con- 
so.  "model"  is  here  used  in  an  unusual  sense,  but  BuUokar  ex- 
plains it,  "Model,  the  flat  forme,  or  form  of  any  thing." — H.  N.  H. 
63.  "a  musty  room" ;  the  neglect  of  cleanliness  among  our  ancestors 
rendered  such  precautions  too  often  necessary.  In  Burton's  Anatomy 
of  Melancholy :  "The  smoke  of  juniper  is  in  great  request  with  us 
at  Oxford  to  sweeten  our  chambers." — H.  N.  H. 

20 


60 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  i.  Sc.  iii. 

ference;  I  whipt  me  behind  the  arras;  and 
there  heard  it  agreed  upon,  that  the  prince 
should  woo  Hero  for  himself,  and  having  ob- 
tained her,  give  her  to  Count  Claudio. 

D.  John.  Come,  come,  let  us  thither:  this  may- 
prove  food  to  my  displeasure.  That  young  70 
start-up  hath  all  the  glory  of  my  overthrow : 
if  I  can  cross  him  any  way,  I  bless  myself 
every  way.  You  are  both  sure,  and  will  as- 
sist me? 

Con.  To  the  death,  my  lord. 

D.  John.  Let  us  to  the  great  supper :  their  cheer 
is  the  greater  that  I  am  subdued.  Would 
the  cook  were  of  my  mind!  Shall  we  go 
prove  what 's  to  be  done  ? 

Bora.  We  '11  wait  upon  your  lordship.  [Exeunt.   80 


2T 


Act  XL  Sc.  i.  MUCH  ADO 


ACT  SECOND 

Scene  I 

A  hall  in  Leonato's  house. 

Enter  Leonato,  Antonio,  Hero,  Beatrice,  and 
others. 

Leon.  Was  not  Count  John  here  at  supper? 

Ant.  I  saw  him  not. 

Beat.  How  tartly  that  gentleman  looks!  I 
never  can  see  him  but  I  am  heart-burned  an 
hour  after. 

Hero.  He  is  of  a  very  melancholy  disposition. 

Beat.  He  were  an  excellent  man  that  were  made 
just  in  the  midway  between  him  and  Bene- 
dick: the  one  is  too  like  an  image  and  says 
nothing,  and  the  other  too  like  my  lady's  eld-   10 
est  son,  evermore  tattling. 

Leon.  Then  half  Signior  Benedick's  tongue  in 
Count  John's  mouth,  and  half  Count  John's 
melancholy  in   Signior  Benedick's   face, — 

Beat.  With  a  good  leg  and  a  good  foot,  uncle, 
and  money  enough  in  his  purse,  such  a  man 
W'Ould  win  any  woman  in  the  world,  if  a' 
could  get  her  good-will. 

Leon.  By  my  troth,  niece,  thou  wilt  never  get 

10.  "my  lady's  eldest  son";  a  young  heir  (in  general). — C.  H.  H. 

■22 


30 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  ii.  Sc.  i. 

thee  a  husband,  if  thou  he  so  shrewd  of  thy;   20 
tongue.  , 

Ant.  In  faith,  she  's  too  curst^  '  "^ 

Beat,  Too  curst  is  more  than  curst:  I  shall 
lessen  God's  sending  that  way ;  for  it  is  said, 
'God  sends  a  curst  cow  short  horns;'  but  to  a 
cow  too  curst  he  sends  none. 

Leon.  So,  by  being  too  curst,  God  will  send  you 
no  horns. 

Beat.  Just,  if  he  send  me  no  husband;  for  the 
which  blessing  I  am  at  him  upon  my  knees 
every  morning  and  evening.  Lord,  I  could 
not  endure  a  husband  with  a  beard  on  his 
face:  I  had  rather  lie  in  the  woolen. 

Leon.  You  may  light  on  a  husband  that  hath  no 
beard. 

Beat.  What  should  I  do  with  him?  dress  him  in 
my  apparel,  and  make  him  my  waiting-gen- 
tlewoman? He  that  hath  a  beard  is  more 
than  a  youth;  and  he  that  hath  no  beard  is 
less  than  a  man:  and  he  that  is  more  than  a  40 
youth  is  not  for  me ;  and  he  that  is  less  than 
a  man,  I  am  not  for  him:  therefore  I  will 
even  take  sixpence  in  earnest  of  the  bear- 
ward,  and  lead  his  apes  into  hell. 

Leon.  Well,  then,  go  you  into  hell? 

Beat.  No,  but  to  the  gate;  and  there  will  the 
devil  meet  me,  like  an  old  cuckold,  with  horns 
on  his  head,  and  say  'Get  you  to  heaven, 
Beatrice,  get  you  to  heaven ;  here  's  no  place 
for  you  maids:'  so  deliver  I  up  my  apes,  and 
away  to  Saint  Peter  for  the  heavens;  he 

23 


50 


Act  II.  Sc.  i.  MUCH  ADO 

shows  me  where  the  bachelors  sit,  and  there 
Hve  we  as  merry  as  the  day  is  long. 

Ant.  [To  Hero~\  Well,  niece,  I  trust  you  will  be 
ruled  by  your  father. 

Beat.  Yes,  faith ;  it  is  my  cousin's  duty  to  make 
courtesy,  and  say,  'Father,  as  it  please  you.* 
But  yet  for  all  that,  cousin,  let  him  be  a 
handsome  fellow,  or  else  make  another  cour- 
tesy, and  say,  'Father,  as  it  please  me.'  60 

Leon.  Well,  niece,  I  hope  to  see  you  one  day 
fitted  with  a  husband. 

Beat.  Not  till  God  make  men  of  some  other 
metal  than  earth.  Would  it  not  grieve  a 
woman  to  be  overmastered  with  a  piece  of 
valiant  dust?  to  make  an  account  of  her  life 
to  a  clod  of  wayward  marl  ?  No,  uncle,  I  '11 
none:  Adam's  sons  are  my  brethren;  and, 
truly,  I  hold  it  a  sin  to  match  in  my  kindred. 

Leon.  Daughter,  remember  what  I  told  you:  if   '70 
the  prince  do  solicit  you  in  that  kind,  you 
know  your  answer. 

Beat.  The  fault  will  be  in  the  music,  cousin,  if 
you  be  not  wooed  in  good  time :  if  the  prince 
be  too  important,  tell  him  there  is  measure 
in  every  thing,  and  so  dance  out  the  answer. 
For,  hear  me,  Hero:  wooing,  wedding,  and 
repenting,  is  as  a  Scotch  jig,  a  measure,  and 
a  cinque  pace :  the  first  suit  is  hot  and  hasty, 
like  a  Scotch  jig,  and  full  as  fantastical;  the  80 
wedding,  mannerly-modest,  as  a  measure, 
full  of  state  and  ancientry;  and  then  comes 
repentance,  and,  with  his  bad  legs,  falls  into 

24 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  ii.  Sc.  i. 

the  cinque  pace  faster  and  faster,  till  he  sink 

into  his  grave. 
Leon.  Cousin,  you  apprehend  passing  shrewdly. 
Beat.  I  have  a  good  eye,  uncle;  I  can  see  a 

church  by  daylight. 
Leon.  The  revelers  are  entering,  brother :  make 

good  room.  \^All  put  on  their  masks.   90 

Enter  Don  Pedro,  Claudio,  Benedick,  Baltliasar, 
Don  John,  Borachio,  Margaret,  Ursula,  and 
others,  masked. 

D.  Pedro.  Lady,  will  you  walk  about  with  your 

friend? 
Hero.  So  you  walk  softly,  and  look  sweetly,  and 

say  nothing.     I  am  yours  for  the  walk ;  and 

especially  when  I  walk  away. 
D.  Pedro.  With  me  in  your  company? 
Hero.  I  may  say  so,  when  I  please. 
D.  Pedro.  And  when  please  you  to  say  so? 
Hero.  When  I  like  your  favor ;  for  God  defend 

the  lute  should  be  like  the  case!  100 

D.  Pedro.  My  visor  is  Philemon's  roof;  within 

the  house  is  Jove. 
Hero.  Why,  then,  your  visor  should  be  thatched. 
D.  Pedro.  Speak  low,  if  you  speak  love. 

[^Drawing  her  aside. 

100.  "the  lute  should  be  like  the  case";  that  is,  God  forbid  that 
your  face  should  be  like  your  mask. — H.  N.  H. 

103.  "within  the  house  is  Jove" ;  alluding  to  the  fable  of  Baucis  and 
Philemon  in  Ovid,  who  describes  the  old  couple  as  living  in  a 
thatched  cottage:  "StipuHs  et  cannd  tecia  palustri";  which  Golding 
renders:  "The  roofe  thereof  was  thatched  all  with  straw  and  fennish 
reede."  Jaques,  in  ^s  You  Like  It,  again  alludes  to  it:  "O  knowl- 
edge ill-inhabited,  worse  than  Jove  in  a  thatched-house." — H.  N.  H. 

25 


Act  II.  Sc.  i.  MUCH  ADO 

Baltli.  Well,  I  would  you  did  like  me. 

Marg.  So  would  not  I,  for  your  own  sake;  for 

I  have  many  ill  qualities. 
Balth.  Which  is  one? 
Marg.  I  say  my  prayers  aloud. 
Balth.  I  love  you  the  better :  the  hearers  may  HO 

cry,  Amen. 
Marg.  God  match  me  with  a  good  dancer ! 
Balth.  Amen. 
Marg.  And  God  keep  him  out  of  my  sight  when 

the  dance  is  done!     Answer,  clerk. 
Balth.  No  more  words :  the  clerk  is  answered. 
Urs.  I  know  you  well  enough;  you  are  Signior 

Antonio. 
Ant.  At  a  word,  I  am  not. 

Urs.  I  know  you  by  the  waggling  of  your  head.  120 
Ant.  To  tell  you  true,  I  counterfeit  him. 
Urs.  You  could  never  do  him  so  ill-well,  unless 

you  were  the  very  man.     Here 's  his  dry 

hand  up  and  down :  you  are  he,  you  are  he. 
Ant.  At  a  word,  I  am  not. 
Urs.  Come,  come,  do  you  think  I  do  not  know 

you  by  your  excellent  wit?  can  virtue  hide 

itself?     Go  to,  mum,  you  are  he:  graces  will 

appear,  and  there  's  an  end. 
Beat.  Will  you  not  tell  me  who  told  you  so?      130 
Bene.  No,  you  shall  pardon  me. 
Beat.  Nor  will  you  not  tell  me  who  you  are? 
Bene.  Not  now. 
Beat.  That  I  was  disdainful,  and  that  I  had  my 

good  wit  out  of  the  'Hundred  Merry  Tales': 

26 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  ii.  Sc.  i. 

— weU,  this  was  Signior  Benedick  that  said 
so. 

Bene.  What 's  he  ? 

Beat.  I  am  sure  you  know  him  well  enough. 

Bene.  Not  I,  believe  me.  140 

Beat.  Did  he  never  make  you  laugh? 

Bene.  I  pray  you,  what  is  he  ? 

Beat.  Why,  he  is  the  prince's  jester:  a  very  dull 
fool;  only  his  gift  is  in  devising  impossible 
slanders:  none  but  libertines  delight  in  him;' 
and  the  commendation  is  not  in  his  wit,  but 
in  his  villany;  for  he  both  pleases  men  and 
angers  them,  and  then  they  laugh  at  him  and 
beat  him.  I  am  sure  he  is  in  the  fleet:  I 
would  he  had  boarded  me.  150 

Bene.  When  I  know  the  gentleman,  I  '11  tell 
him  what  you  say. 

Beat.  Do,  do;  he  '11  but  break  a  comparison  or 
two  on  me ;  which,  peradventure  not  marked 
or  not  laughed  at,  strikes  him  into  melan- 
choly ;  and  then  there  's  a  partridge  wing 
saved,  for  the  fool  will  eat  no  supper  that 
night.  [Music. ^  We  must  follow  the  leaders. 

Bene.  In  every  good  thing. 

Beat.  Nay,  if  they  lead  to  any  ill,  I  will  leave  160 
them  at  the  next  turning. 
[Dance.     Then  exeunt  all  except  Don  John, 
Borachio,  and  CI  audio. 

D.  John.  Sure  my  brother  is  amorous  on  Hero, 
and  hath  withdi'awn  her  father  to  break  with 
him  about  it.  The  ladies  follow  her,  and  but 
one  visor  remains. 

27 


Act  II.  Sc.  i.  MUCH  ADO 

Bora.  And  that  is  Claudio:  I  know  him  by  his 
bearing. 

D.  John.  Are  not  you  Signior  Benedick? 

Claud.  You  know  me  well ;  I  am  he. 

Z).  John.  Signior,  you  are  very  near  my  brother  170 
in  his  love ;  he  is  enamored  on  Hero ;  I  pray 
you,  dissuade  him  from  her:  she  is  no  equal 
for  his  birth :  you  may  do  the  part  of  an  hon- 
est man  in  it. 

Claud.  How  know  you  he  loves  her? 

Z).  John.  I  heard  him  swear  his  affection. 

Bora.  So  did  I  too;  and  he  swore  he  would 
marry  her  to-night. 

Z).  John.  Come,  let  us  to  the  banquet. 

[Exeunt  Don  John  and  Borachio. 

Claud.  Thus  answer  I  in  name  of  Benedick,       180 
But  hear  these  ill  news  with  the  ears  of 

Claudio. 
'Tis  certain  so ;  the  prince  wooes  for  himself. 
Friendship  is  constant  in  all  other  things 
Save  in  the  office  and  affairs  of  love: 
Therefore  all  hearts  in  love  use  their  own 

tongues ; 
Let  every  eye  negotiate  for  itself. 
And  trust  no  agent ;  for  beauty  is  a  witch, 
Against  whose  charms  faith  melteth  into 

blood.  •^ 

This  is  an  accident  of  hourly  proof, 
Which  I  mistrusted  not.     Farewell,  there- 
fore, Hero!  190 

;■•  Re-enter  Benedick, 

28 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  ll.  Sc.  i. 

'Bene.  Count  Claudio? 

Claud,  Yea,  the  same. 

Bene,  Come,  will  you  go  witH  me? 

Claud,  Whither? 

Bene,  Even  to  the  next  willow,  about  your  own 
business,  county.  What  fashion  will  you 
wear  the  garland  of?  about  your  neck,  like 
an  usurer's  chain?  or  under  your  arm,  like 
a  lieutenant's  scarf  ?  You  must  wear  it  one 
way,  for  the  prince  hath  got  your  Hero.        200 

Claud,  I  wish  him  joy  of  her. 

Bene,  Why,  that 's  spoken  like  an  honest  dro- 
vier ;  so  they  sell  bullocks.  But  did  you  think 
the  prince  would  have  served  you  thus  ? 

Claud,  I  pray  you,  leave  me. 

Bene,  Ho!  now  you  strike  like  the  blind  man; 
'twas  the  boy  that  stole  your  meat,  and 
you  '11  beat  the  post. 

Claud,  If  it  will  not  be,  I  '11  leave  you.         [Eooit, 

Bene,  Alas,  poor  hurt  fowl  I  now  will  he  creep  210 
into  sedges.  But,  that  my  lady  Beatrice 
should  know  me,  and  not  know  me!  The 
prince's  fool!  Ha?  It  may  be  I  go  under 
that  title  because  I  am  merry.  Yea,  but  so 
I  am  apt  to  do  myself  wrong;  I  am  not  so 
reputed:  it  is  the  base,  though  bitter,  dispo- 
sition of  Beatrice  that  puts  the  world  into 
her  person,  and  so  gives  me  out.  Well, 
I  '11  be  revenged  as  I  may. 

217.  "puts  the  world  into  her  person";  that  is,  who  takes  upon  her- 
self to  personate  the  world,  and  so  fancies  that  the  world  thinks 
just  as  she  does.  In  nearly  all  modern  editions,  the  base  though 
bitter  disposition  is  changed  to  the  base,  the  bitter  disposition;  prob- 

29 


Act  II.  Sc.  i.  MUCH  ADO 

Re-enter  Don  Pedro. 

D.  Pedro.  Now,   signior,   where 's   the  count?  220 
did  you  see  him? 

Bene.  Troth,  m}^  lord,  I  have  played  the  part 
of  Lady  Fame.  I  found  him  here  as  mel- 
ancholy as  a  lodge  in  a  warren:  I  told  him, 
and  I  think  I  told  him  true,  that  your  grace 
had  got  the  good  will  of  this  young  lady; 
and  I  offered  him  my  company  to  a  willow- 
tree,  either  to  make  him  a  garland,  as  be- 
ing forsaken,  or  to  bind  him  up  a  rod,  as  be- 
ing worthy  to  be  whipped.  230 

D.  Pedro.  To  be  whipped!     What 's  his  fault? 

Bene.  The  flat  transgression  of  a  school-boy, 
who,  being  overjoyed  with  finding  a  birds' 
nest,  shows  it  his  companion,  and  he  steals  it. 

D.  Pedro.  Wilt  thou  make  a  trust  a  transgres- 
sion?    The  transgression  is  in  the  stealer. 

Bene.  Yet  it  had  not  been  amiss  the  rod  had 
been  made,  and  the  garland  too ;  for  the  gar- 
land he  might  have  worn  himself,  and  the 
rod  he  might  have  bestowed  on  you,  who,  as  240 
I  take  it,  have  stolen  his  birds'  nest. 

D.  Pedro.  I  will  but  teach  them  to  sing,  and 
restore  them  to  the  owner. 

Bene.  If  their  singing  answer  your  saying,  by 
my  faith,  you  sslj  honestly. 

ably  because  the  editors  could  discover  no  antithesis  between  base 
and  hitter.  Perhaps  they  would  have  seen  the  appropriateness  of 
iJwuf/h.  had  thcj^  but  understood  bitter  in  the  sense  of  sharp,  witty, 
satirical. — H.   N.   H. 

'22^.  "as  melancholy  as  a  lodge  in  a  tvarren" :  the  phrase  suggests 
"The  daughter  of  Zion  is  left  as  a  cottage  in  a  vineyard,  as  a  lodge 
in  a  garden  of  cucumbers,"  Isaiah  i.  8. — I.  G. 

30 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  ii.  Sc.  i. 

D.  Pedro.  The  Lady  Beatrice  hath  a  quarrel 
to  you:  the  gentleman  that  danced  with  her 
told  her  she  is  much  wronged  by  you. 

Bene.  O,  she  misused  me  past  the  endurance  of 
a  block !  an  oak  but  with  one  green  leaf  on  it  250 
would  have  answered  her ;  my  very  visor  be- 
gan to  assume  life  and  scold  with  her.  She 
told  me,  not  thinking  I  had  been  myself, 
that  I  was  the  prince's  jester,  that  I  was 
duller  than  a  great  thaw ;  huddhng  jest  upon 
jest,  with  such  impossible  conveyance,  upon 
me,  that  I  stood  like  a  man  at  a  mark,  with  a 
whole  army  shooting  at  me.  She  speaks 
poniards,  and  every  word  stabs :  if  her  breath 
were  as  terrible  as  her  terminations,  there  260 
were  no  living  near  her;  she  would  infect 
to  the  north  star.  I  would  not  marry  her, 
though  she  were  endowed  with  all  that  Adam 
had  left  him  before  he  transgressed:  she 
would  have  made  Hercules  have  turned  spit, 
yea,  and  have  cleft  his  club  to  make  the  fire 
too.  Come,  talk  not  of  her:  you  shall  find 
her  the  infernal  Ate  in  good  apparel.  I 
would  to  God  some  scholar  would  conjure 
her;  for  certainly,  while  she  is  here,  a  man  270 
may  live  as  quiet  in  hell  as  in  a  sanctuary; 
and  people  sin  upon  purpose,  because  they 
would  go  thither;  so,  indeed,  all  disquiet, 
horror,  and  perturbation  follows  her. 

D.  Pedro.  Look,  here  she  comes. 

Re-enter  Claudio,  Beatrice,  Hero,  and  Leonato. 

21 


Act  11.  Sc.  i.  MUCH  ADO 

Bene.  Will  your  grace  command  me  any  serv- 
ice to  the  world's  end?  I  will  go  on  the 
slightest  errand  now  to  the  Antipodes  that 
you  can  devise  to  send  me  on;  I  will  fetch 
you  a  tooth-picker  now  from  the  furthest  280 
inch  of  Asia;  bring  you  the  length  of  Pres- 
ter  John's  foot ;  fetch  you  a  hair  off  the  great 
Cham's  beard;  do  you  any  embassage  to 
the  Pigmies;  rather  than  hold  three  words* 
conference  with  this  harpy.  You  have  no 
employment  for  me? 

D.  Pedro.  None,  but  to  desire  your  good  com- 
pany. 

Bene.  O  God,  sir,  here 's  a  dish  I  love  not ;  I 
cannot  endure  my  Lady  Tongue.        [Eccit.  290 

D.  Pedro.  Come,  lady,  come ;  you  have  lost  the 
heart  of  Signior  Benedick. 

Beat.  Indeed,  my  lord,  he  lent  it  me  awhile; 
and  I  gave  him  use  for  it,  a  double  heart 
for  his  single  one:  marry,  once  before  he 
won  it  of  me  with  false  dice,  therefore  your 
Grace  may  well  say  I  have  lost  it. 

D.  Pedro.  You  have  put  him  down,  lady,  you 
have  put  him  down. 

Beat.  So  I  would  not  he  should  do  me,  my  3'00 
lord,  lest  I  should  prove  the  mother  of  fools. 
I  have  brought  Count  Claudio,  whom  you 
sent  me  to  seek. 

JD.  Pedro.  Why,  how  now,  count!  wherefore 
are  you  sad? 

Claud.  Not  sad,  my  lord. 

283.  "Cham";  the  Khan  of  Tartary.— C.  H.  H. 

22 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  II.  Sc.  i. 

D,  Pedro.  How  then?  sick? 

Claud.  Neither,  my  lord. 

Beat.  The  count  is  neither  sad,  nor  sick,  nor 
merry,  nor  well;  but  civil  count,  civil  as  an 
orange,  and  something  of  that  jealous  com-  310 
plexion. 

D.  Pedro.  V  faith,  lady,  I  think  your  blazon  to 
be  true;  though,  I  '11  be  sworn,  if  he  be  so, 
his  conceit  is  false.  Here,  Claudio,  I  have 
wooed  in  thy  name,  and  fair  Hero  is  won: 
I  have  broke  with  her  father,  and  his  good 
will  obtained :  name  the  day  of  marriage,  and 
God  give  thee  joy! 

Leon.  Count,  take  of  me  my  daughter,  and  with 
her  my  fortunes :  his  Grace  hath  made  the  320 
match,  and  all  grace  say  Amen  to  it. 

Beat.  Speak,  count,  'tis  your  cue. 

Claud.  Silence  is  the  perfectest  herald  of  joy: 
I  were  but  little  happy,  if  I  could  say  how 
much.  Lady,  as  you  are  mine,  I  am  yours : 
I  give  away  myself  for  you,  and  dote  upon 
the  exchange. 

Beat.  Speak,  cousin ;  or,  if  you  cannot,  stop  his 
mouth  with  a  kiss,  and  let  not  him  speak 
neither.  330 

D.  Pedro.  In  faith,  lady,  you  have  a  merry 
heart. 

Beat.  Yea,  my  lord;  I  thank  it,  poor  fool,  it 
keeps  on  the  windy  side  of  care.  My  cousin 
tells  him  in  his  ear  that  he  is  in  her  heart. 

Claud.  And  so  she  doth,  cousin. 

Beat.  Good   Lord,    for    alliance!     Thus    goes 


Act  II.  Sc.  i.  MUCH  ADO 

every  one  to  tlie  world  but  I,  and  I  am  sun- 
burnt; I  may  sit  in  a  corner,  and  cry  heigh-ho 
for  a  husband !  340 

D.  Pedro.  Lady  Beatrice,  I  will  get  you  one. 

Beat.  I  would  rather  have  one  of  your  father's 
getting.  Hath  your  Grace  ne'er  a  brother 
like  you?  Your  fatlier  got  excellent  hus- 
bands, if  a  maid  could  come  by  them. 

D.  Pedro.  Will  3'^ou  have  me,  lady? 

Beat.  No,  my  lord,  unless  I  might  have  another 
for  working-days:  your  Grace  is  too  costly 
to  wear  every  day.     But,  I   beseech  your 
Grace,  pardon  me :  I  was  born  to  speak  all  350 
mirth  and  no  matter. 

D.  Pedro.  Your  silence  most  offends  me,  and 
to  be  merry  best  becomes  you;  for,  out  of 
question,  you  were  born  in  a  merry  hour. 

Beat.  No,  sure,  my  lord,  my  mother  cried;  but 
then  there  was  a  star  danced,  and  under  that 
was  I  born.     Cousins,  God  give  you  joy! 

Leon.  Niece,  will  you  look  to  those  things  I 
told  you  of? 

Beat.  I  cry  you  mercy,  uncle.    By  your  Grace's  360 
pardon.  [ElvU. 

J).  Pedro.  By  my  troth,  a  pleasant-spirited 
lady. 

Leon.  There  's  little  of  the  melancholy  element 
in  her,  my  lord:  she  is  never  sad  but  when 
she  sleeps;  and  not  ever  sad  then;  for  I  have 
lieard  my  daughter  say,  she  hath  often 
dreamed  of  unliappiness,  and  waked  herself 
with  laughing. 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  ii.  Sc.  i. 

D.  Pedro.  She  cannot  endure  to  hear  tell  of  a  «^70 
husband. 

Leon.  O,  by  no  means :  she  mocks  all  her  wooers 
out  of  suit. 

D.  Pedro.  She  were  an  excellent  wife  for  Bene- 
dick. 

Leon.  O  Lord,  my  lord,  if  they  were  but  a  week 
married,  they  would  talk  themselves  mad. 

D.  Pedro.  County  Claudio,  when  mean  you  to 
go  to  church? 

Claud.  To-morrow,    my    lord:    time    goes    on  380 
crutches  till  love  have  all  his  rites. 

Leon.  Not  till  Monday,  my  dear  son,  which  is 
hence  a  just  seven-night;  and  a  time  too 
brief,  too,  to  have  all  things  answer  my 
mind. 

D.  Pedro.  Come,  you  shake  the  head  at  so  long 
a  breathing:  but,  I  warrant  thee,  Claudio, 
the  time  shall  not  go  dully  by  us.  I  will,  in 
the  interim,  undertake  one  of  Hercules'  la- 
bors ;  which  is,  to  bring  Signior  Benedick  ^90 
and  the  Lady  Beatrice  into  a  mountain  of 
aif  ection  the  one  with  the  other.  I  would 
fain  have  it  a  match ;  and  I  doubt  not  but  to 
fashion  it,  if  j'^ou  three  will  but  minister  such 
assistance  as  I  shall  give  you  direction. 

Leon.  IVIy  lord,  I  am  for  you,  though  it  cost 
me  ten  nights'  watchings. 

Claud.  And  I,  my  lord. 

D.  Pedro.  And  you  too,  gentle  Hero? 

Hero.  I  will  do  any  modest  office,  my  lord,  to  400 
help  my  cousin  to  a  good  husband. 


Act.  II.  Sc.  ii.  MUCH  ADO 

D.  Pedro.  And  Benedick  is  not  the  unliope- 
fullest  husband  that  I  know.  Thus  far  can 
I  praise  him;  he  is  of  a  noble  strain,  of  ap- 
proved valor,  and  confirmed  honesty.  I  will 
teach  you  how  to  humor  your  cousin,  that 
she  shall  fall  in  love  with  Benedick;  and  I, 
with  your  two  helps,  will  so  practise  on  Bene- 
dick, that,  in  despite  of  his  quick  wit  and 
his  queasy  stomach,  he  shall  fall  in  love  with  410 
Beatrice.  If  we  can  do  this,  Cupid  is  no 
longer  an  archer :  his  glory  shall  be  ours,  for 
we  are  the  only  love-gods.  Go  in  with  me, 
and  I  will  tell  you  my  drift.  lEcceunt. 


Scene  II 

The  same. 
Enter  Don  John  and  Borachio. 

D.  John.  It  is  so;  the  Count  Claudio  shall 
marry  the  daughter  of  Leonato. 

Bora.  Yea,  my  lord ;  but  I  can  cross  it. 

D.  John.  Any  bar,  any  cross,  anj^  impediment 
will  be  medicinable  to  me :  I  am  sick  in  dis- 
pleasure to  him;  and  whatsoever  comes 
athwart  his  affection  ranges  evenly  with 
mine.     How  canst  thou  cross  this  marriage? 

Bora.  Not  honestly,  my  lord;  but  so  covertly 
that  no  dishonesty  shall  appear  in  me.  10 

D.  John.  Show  me  briefly  how. 

Bora.  I  think  I  told  your  lordship,  a  year  since, 

36 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act.  ii.  Sc.  ii. 

how  much  I  am  in  the  favor  of  Margaret, 
the  waiting  gentlewoman  to  Hero. 

D.  John.  I  remember. 

Bora.  I  can,  at  any  unseasonable  instant  of  the 
night,  appoint  her  to  look  out  at  her  lady's 
chamber  window. 

Z).  John.  What  life  is  in  that,  to  be  the  death 
of  this  marriage?  20 

Bora.  The  poison  of  that  lies  in  you  to  temper. 
Go  you  to  the  prince  your  brother;  spare 
not  to  tell  him  that  he  hath  wronged  his 
honor  in  marrying  the  renowned  Claudio — 
whose  estimation  do  you  mightily  hold  up — 
to  a  contaminated  stale,  such  a  one  as  Hero. 

Z).  John.  What  proof  shall  I  make  of  that  ? 

Bora.  Proof  enough  to  misuse  the  prince,  to 
vex  Claudio,  to  undo  Hero,  and  kill  Leonato. 
Look  you  for  any  other  issue?  30 

D.  Johri.  Only  to  desjjite  them  I  will  endeavor 
any  thing. 

Bora.  Go,  then;  find  me  a  meet  hour  to  draw 
Don  Pedro  and  the  Count  Claudio  alone: 
tell  them  that  you  know  that  Hero  loves  me ; 
intend  a  kind  of  zeal  both  to  the  prince  and 
Claudio,  as, — in  love  of  your  brother's  honor, 
who  hath  made  this  match,  and  his  friend's 
reputation,  who  is  thus  like  to  be  cozened 
with  the  semblance  of  a  maid, — that  you  40 
have  discovered  thus.  They  will  scarcely 
believe  this  without  trial:  offer  them  in- 
stances; which  ghall  bear  no  less  likelihood 
than  to  see  me  at  her  chamber-window ;  hear 

37 


Act  II.  Sc.  iii.  MUCH  ADO 

me  call  jSIargaret,  Hero;  hear  Margaret 
term  me  Claudio ;  and  bring  them  to  see  this 
the  very  night  before  the  intended  wedding, 
— for  in  the  meantime  I  will  so  fashion  the 
matter  that  Hero  shall  be  absent, — and  there 
shall  appear  such  seeming  truth  of  Hero's  50 
disloyalty,  that  jealousy  shall  be  called  as- 
surance and  all  the  preparation  overthrown. 

D.  John.  Grow  this  to  what  adverse  issue  it 
can,  I  will  put  it  in  practice.  Be  cunning  in 
the  working  this,  and  thy  fee  is  a  thousand 
ducats. 

Bora.  Be  you  constant  in  the  accusation,  and 
my  cunning  shall  not  shame  me. 

D.  John.  I  will  presently  go  learn  their  day  of 
marriage.  [Exeunt.   60 


Scene  III 

Leonato's  orchard. 
Enter  Benedick. 


Bene.  Boy! 


Enter  Boy. 


Boy.  Signior? 

46.  Some  editors  substitute  "Borachio"  for  "Claudio"  in  order  to 
relieve  the  difficulty  here,  but,  as  the  Cambridge  editors  point  out, 
"Hero's  supposed  offence  would  not  be  enhanced  by  calling  one 
lover  by  the  name  of  the  other.  .  .  .  Perhaps  the  author  meant 
that  Borachio  should  persuade  her  to  play,  as  children  say,  at  being 
Hero  and  Claudio." — I.  G. 

"Enter  Benedick";  in  the  original,  both  quarto  and  folio,  the  stage 

38 


ABOUT  NOTHIXG  Act  li.  Sc.  iii. 

Bene.  In  my  chamber-window  lies  a  book :  bring 
it  hither  to  me  in  the  orchard. 

Boy.  I  am  here  already,  sir. 

Bene.  I  know  that ;  but  I  would  have  thee  hence, 
and  here  again.  [Eait  Boy.]  I  do  much 
wonder  that  one  man,  seeing  how  much  an- 
other man  is  a  fool  when  he  dedicates  his  be- 
haviors to  love,  Avill,  after  he  hath  laughed  at  10 
such  shallow  follies  in  others,  become  the  ar- 
gument of  his  own  scorn  by  falling  in  love : 
and  such  a  man  is  Claudio.  I  have  known 
when  there  was  no  music  with  him  but  the 
drum  and  the  fife;  and  now  had  he  rather 
hear  the  tabor  and  the  pipe;  I  have  known 
when  he  would  have  walked  ten  mile  a-foot 
to  see  a  good  armor;  and  now^  will  he  lie 
ten  nights  awake,  carving  the  fashion  of  a 
new  doublet.  He  was  wont  to  speak  plain  20 
and  to  the  purpose,  like  an  honest  man  and  a 
soldier;  and  now  is  he  turned  orthography; 
his  words  are  a  very  fantastical  banquet, — 
just  so  many  strange  dishes.  IVIay  I  be  so 
converted,  and  see  with  these  eyes?  I  can- 
not tell ;  I  think  not :  I  will  not  be  sworn  but 
love  may  transform  me  to  an  oyster ;  but  I  '11 
take  my  oath  on  it,  till  he  have  made  an 
oyster  of  me,  he  shall  never  make  me  such  a 

direction  here  is,  "Enter  Benedick  alone";  in  all  modern  editions  till 
Mr.  Collier's  it  is,  "Enter  Benedick  and  a  Boy."  The  original  is 
probabl)'^  right,  the  design  being  that  Benedick  shall  be  seen  pacing 
to  and  fro,  ruminating  and  digesting  the  matter  of  his  forthcoming 
soliloquy.  In  this  state  his  mind  gets  so  deep  in  philosophy,  that 
he  wants  a  book  to  feed  the  apj^etite  which  passing  events  have 
awakened^     Of  course  the  boy  conies  when  called  for. — H.  N.  H. 

39 


Act  II.  Sc.  iii.  MUCH  ADO 

fool.  One  woman  is  fair,  yet  I  am  well;  30 
another  is  wise,  yet  I  am  well ;  another  virtu- 
ous, yet  I  am  well:  but  till  all  graces  be  in 
one  woman,  one  woman  shall  not  come  in  my 
grace.  Rich  she  shall  be,  that 's  certain ; 
wise,  or  I  '11  none ;  virtuous,  or  I  '11  never 
cheapen  her ;  fair,  or  I  '11  never  look  on  her ; 
mild,  or  come  not  near  me;  noble,  or  not  I 
for  an  angel ;  of  good  discourse,  an  excellent 
musician,  and  her  hair  shall  be  of  what  color 
it  please  God.  Ha!  the  prince  and  Mon-  40 
sieur  Love!     I  will  hide  me  in  the  arbor. 

[  Withdraws. 

Enter  Don  Pedro,  Claudio,  and  Leonato. 

D.  Pedro.  Come,  sliall  we  hear  this  music? 
Claud.  Yoa,  my  good  lord.     How  still  the  even- 
ing is, 
As  hush'd  on  purpose  to  grace  harmony! 
D.  Pedro.  See  you  where  Benedick  hath  hid 

himself? 
Cland.  O,  very  well,  my  lord:  the  music  ended, 
We  '11  fit  the  kid- fox  with  a  pennyworth. 

39.  'her  hair  shall  be";  disguises  of  false  hair  and  of  dyed  hair 
were  |uite  common,  especially  among  the  ladies,  in  Shakespeare's 
time",  scarce  any  of  them  being  so  richly  dowered  with  other  gifts 
as  to  be  content  with  the  hair  which  it  had  pleased  Nature  to  be- 
stow. The  Poet  has  several  passages  going  to  show  that  this  custom 
was  not  much  in  favor  with  him;  as  in  Love's  Labor's  Lost,  Act 
iv.  sc-  3,  where  Biron  "mourns  that  painting  and  usurping  hair 
should  ravish  doters  with  a  false  aspect."  That  in  this  as  in  other 
things  his  mind  went  with  Nature,  further  appears  from  his  making 
so  sensible  a  fellow  as  Benedick  talk  that  way. — H.  N.  H. 

41.  The  Folio  reads: — "Enter  Prince,  Leonato,  Claudio,  and  Jack 
Wilsov":  the  latter  was  probably  the  singer  who  took  the  part  of 
Balt'jxsar.— I.  G. 

40 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  ii.  Sc.  iii. 

Enter  Balthasar  with  Music. 

D.  Pedro.  Come,    Balthasar,    we  '11   hear   that 

song  again. 
Balth.  O,  good  my  lord,  tax  not  so  bad  a  voice 

To  slander  music  any  more  than  once.  50 

D.  Pedro.  It  is  the  witness  still  of  excellency 

To  put  a  strange  face  on  his  own  perfection. 

I  pray  thee,  sing,  and  let  me  woo  no  more. 
Balth.  Because  you  talk  of  wooing,  I  will  sing; 

Since  many  a  wooer  doth  commence  his  suit 

To  her  he  thinks  not  worthy,  yet  he  wooes. 

Yet  will  he  swear  he  loves. 
D.  Pedro.  Nay,  pray  thee,  come ; 

Or,  if  thou  wilt  hold  longer  argument. 

Do  it  in  notes.  60 

Balth.  Note  this  before  my  notes; 

There  's  not  a  note  of  mine  that 's  worth  the 
notmg. 
D.  Pedro.  Why,  these  are  very  crotchets  that  he 
speaks ; 

Note,  notes,  forsooth,  and  nothing.  [Air. 

Bene.  Now,  divine  air !  now  is  his  soul  ravished ! 

Is  it  not  strange  that  sheeps'  guts  should 

hale  souls  out  of  men's   bodies?     Well,   a 

horn  for  my  money,  when  all 's  done. 

The  Song. 
Balth.  Sigh  no  more,  ladies,  sigh  no  more, 

Men  were  deceivers  ever,  "70 

62.  "crotchets";  whimsies  (with  a  quibble). — C.  H.  H. 

67.  "hale  souls  out  of  men's  bodies" ;  a  similar  tribute  to  the  power 
of  music  occurs  in  Twelfth  Night,  Act  ii.  sc.  3,  only  it  is  there 
spoken  of  as  able  to  "draw  three  souls  out  of  one  weaver." — H.  N.  H. 

41 


Act  II.  S(.  iii.  MUCH  ADO 

One  foot  in  sea  and  one  on  shore, 

To  one  thing  constant  never: 
Then  sigh  not  so,  but  let  them  go, 

And  be  you  bhthe  and  bonny, 
Converting  all  your  sounds  of  woe 

Into  Hey  nonny,  nonny. 
Sing  no  more  ditties,  sing  no  moe, 

Of  dumps  so  dull  and  heavy; 
The  fraud  of  men  was  ever  so. 

Since  summer  first  was  leavy: 
Then  sigh  not  so,  &c. 


80 


D.  Pedro.  By  my  troth,  a  good  song. 

Balth.  And  an  ill  singer,  my  lord. 

D.  Pedro.  Ha,  no,  no,  faith;  thou  singest  well 
enough  for  a  shift. 

Bene.  An  he  had  been  a  dog  that  should  have 
howled  thus,  they  would  have  hanged  him: 
and  I  pray  God  his  bad  voice  bode  no  mis- 
chief. I  had  as  lief  have  heard  the  night- 
raven,  come  what  plague  could  have  come  ^^0 
after  it. 

D.  Pedro.  Yea,  marry,  dost  thou  hear,  Balth- 
asar?  I  pray  thee,  get  us  some  excellent 
music;  for  to-morrow  night  we  would  have 
it  at  tlie  Lady  Hero's  chamber-window. 

Balth.  The. best  I  can,  my  lord. 

D.  Pedro.  Do  so:  farewell.  [EiVit  Balthasar.'] 
Come  hitlier,  Leonato.  What  was  it  you 
told  me  of  to-day,  that  your  niece  Beatrice 
was  in  love  with  Signior  Benedick?  100 

Claud.  O,  aye:  stalk  on,  stalk  on;  the  fowl  sits. 

42 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  ii.  Sc.  ui. 

I  did  never  think  that  lady  would  have  loved 

any  man. 
Leon.  No,  nor  I  neither;  but  most  wonderful 

that  she  should  so  dote  on  Signior  Benedick, 

whom   she   hath   in   all   outward   behaviors 

seemed  ever  to  abhor. 
Bene.  Is 't   possible?     Sits   the   wind   in   that 

corner  ? 
Leon.  By  my  troth,  my  lord,  I  cannot  tell  what  HO 

to  think  of  it,  but  that  she  loves  him  with  an 

enraged  affection;  it  is  past  the  infinite  of 

thought. 
D.  Pedro.  May  be  she  doth  but  counterfeit. 
Claud.  Faith,  like  enough. 
Leon.  O  God,  counterfeit!     There  was  never 

counterfeit  of  passion  came  so  near  the  life 

of  passion  as  she  discovers  it. 
D.  Pedro.  Why,  what  effects  of  passion  shows 

she?  120 

Claud.  Bait  the  hook  well ;  this  fish  will  bite. 
Leon.  What   efl^ects,   my   lord?     She   will    sit 

you,  you  heard  my  daughter  tell  you  how. 
Claud.  She  did,  indeed. 
D.  Pedro.  How,  how,  I  pray  you  ?     You  amaze 

me:   I  would  have  thought  her  spirit  had 

been  invincible  against  all  assaults  of  affec- 
tion. 
Leon.  I  would  have  sworn  it  had,  my  lord; 

especially  against  Benedick.  130 

Bene.  I  should  think  this  a  gull,  but  that  the 

white-bearded  fellow  speaks  it :  knavery  can- 

131.  "gull";  tiick.~C.  II.  Ii. 
43 


Act  II.  Sc.  iii.  MUCH  ADO 

not,  sure,  hide  himself  in  such  reverence. 

Claud.  He  hath  ta'en  the  infection :  hold  it  up. 

D,  Pedro.  Hath  she  made  her  affection  known 
to  Benedick? 

Leon.  No ;  and  swears  she  never  will :  that 's  her 
torment. 

Claud.  'Tis    true,    indeed;    so    your   daughter 
says:  'Shall  I,'  says  she,  'that  have  so  oft  140 
encountered  him  with  scorn,  write  to  him 
that  I  love  him?' 

Leon.  This  says  she  now  when  she  is  beginning 
to  write  to  him ;  for  she  '11  be  up  twenty 
times  a  night;  and  there  will  she  sit  in  her 
smock  till  she  have  writ  a  sheet  of  paper: 
my  daughter  tells  us  all. 

Claud.  Now  you  talk  of  a  sheet  of  paper,  I 
remember  a  pretty  jest  your  daughter  told 
us  of.  150 

Leon.  O,  when  she  had  writ  it,  and  was  read- 
ing it  over,  she  found  Benedick  and  Beatrice 
between  the  sheet? 

Claud.  That. 

Leon.  O,  she  tore  the  letter  into  a  thousand 
half-pence;  railed  at  herself,  that  she  should 
be  so  immodest  to  write  to  one  that  she  knew 
would  flout  her;  'I  measure  him,'  says  she, 
*by  my  own  spirit;  for  I  should  flout  him, 
if  he  writ  to  me;  yea,  though  I  love  him,  1 160 
should.' 

Claud.  Then  down  upon  her  knees  she  falls, 
weeps,  sobs,  beats  her  heart,  tears  her  hair. 


■^h 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  ii.  Sc.  in. 

prays,    curses;    'O    sweet    Benedick!     God 
give  me  patience!' 

Leon.  She  doth  indeed;  my  daughter  says  so: 
and  the  ecstasy  hath  so  much  overborne  her, 
that  my  daughter  is  sometimes  afeard  she 
will  do  a  desperate  outrage  to  herself:  it  is 
very  true.  170 

D.  Pedro.  It  were  good  that  Benedick  knew  of 
it  by  some  other,  if  she  will  not  discover  it. 

Claud.  To  what  end?  He  would  make  but  a 
sport  of  it,  and  torment  the  poor  lady 
worse. 

D.  Pedro.  An  he  should,  it  were  an  alms  to 
hang  him.  She  's  an  excellent  sweet  lady ; 
and,  out  of  all  suspicion,  she  is  virtuous. 

Claud.  And  she  is  exceeding  wise. 

D.  Pedro.  In  every  thing  but  in  loving  Bene- 180 
dick. 

Leon.  O,  my  lord,  wisdom  and  blood  combating 
in  so  tender  a  body,  we  have  ten  proofs  to 
one  that  blood  hath  the  victory.  I  am 
sorry  for  her,  as  I  have  just  cause,  being  her 
uncle  and  her  guardian. 

Z).  Pedro.  I  would  she  had  bestowed  this  dot- 
age on  me:  I  would  have  daiFed  all  other 
respects,  and  made  her  half  myself.     I  pray 
you,  tell  Benedick  of  it,  and  hear  what  a'  190 
will  say. 

Leon.  Were  it  good,  think  you? 

Claud.  Hero  thinks  surely  she  will  die;  for  she 
says  she  will  die,  if  he  love  her  not ;  and  she 
will  die,  ere  she  make  her  love  known  j  and 


Act  II.  Sc.  iii.  MUCH  ADO 

she  will  die,  if  he  woo  her,  rather  than  she 
will  bate  one  breath  of  her  accustomed 
crossness. 

D.  Pedro.  She  doth  well:  if  she  should  make 
tender  of  her  love,  'tis  very  possible  he  '11 200 
scorn  it;  for  the  man,  as  you  know  all,  hath 
a  contemptible  spirit. 

Claud.  He  is  a  very  proper  man. 

D.  Pedro.  He  hath  indeed  a  good  outward  hap- 
piness. 

Claud.  Before  God !  and  in  my  mind ,  very 
wise. 

D.  Pedro.  He  doth  indeed  show  some  sparks 
that  are  like  wit. 

Claud.  And  I  take  him  to  be  valiant.  210 

D.  Pedro.  As  Hector,  I  assure  you :  and  in  the 
managing  of  quarrels  you  may  say  he  is 
wise;  for  either  he  avoids  them  with  great 
discretion,  or  undertakes  them  with  a  most 
Christian-like  fear. 

Leon.  If  he  do  fear  God,  a'  must  necessarily 
keep  peace :  if  he  break  the  peace,  he  ought 
to  enter  into  a  quarrel  with  fear  and  trem- 
bling. 

Z>.  Pedro.  And  so  will  he  do ;  for  the  man  doth  220 
fear  God,  howsoever  it  seems  not  in  him  by 
some  large  jests  he  will  make.     Well,  I  am 
sorry   for  your  niece.     Shall  we   go   seek 
Benedick,  and  tell  him  of  her  love? 

200.  "make  tender  of";  offer.— C.  H.  H. 

204.  "'good  outward  happiness" ;  attractive    form   and   features. — 
C.  H,  H. 

46 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  ii.  Sc.  iii. 

Claud,  Never  tell  him,  my  lord :  let  her  wear  it 
out  with  good  counsel. 

Leon.  Nay,  that 's  impossible :  she  may  wear  her 
heart  out  first. 

D.  Pedro.  Well,  we  will  hear  further  of  it  by 
your  daughter :  let  it  cool  the  while.     I  love  230 
Benedick  well;  and  I  could  wish  he  would 
modestly  examine  himself,  to  see  how  much 
he  is  unworthy  so  good  a  lady. 

Leon.  JNIy  lord,  will  you  walk?  dinner  is  ready. 

Claud.  If  he  do  not  dote  on  her  upon  this,  I  will 
never  trust  my  expectation. 

D.  Pedro.  Let  there  be  the  same  net  spread  for 
her;  and  that  must  your  daughter  and  her 
gentlewomen  carry.  The  sport  will  be, 
when  they  hold  one  an  opinion  of  another's  240 
dotage,  and  no  such  matter :  that 's  the  scene 
that  I  would  see,  which  will  be  merely  a 
dumb-show.  Let  us  send  her  to  call  him  in 
to  dinner. 

[Exeunt  Don  Pedro,  Claudio,  and  Leonato. 

Bene.  [Coming  fortvard'\  This  can  be  no  trick : 
the  conference  was  sadly  borne.  They  have 
the  truth  of  this  from  Hero.  They  seem 
to  pity  the  lady :  it  seems  her  affections  have 
their  full  bent.  Love  me!  why,  it  must  be 
requited.  I  hear  how  I  am  censured :  they  250 
say  I  will  bear  myself  proudly,  if  I  perceive 
the  love  come  from  her;  they  say  too  that 
she  will  rather  die  than  give  any  sign  of.  ) 
affection.  I  did  never  think  to  marry:  I 
must  not  seem  proud:  happy  are  they  that 


Act  II.  Se.  iii^  MUCH  ADO 

hear  their  detractions,  and  can  put  them  to 
mending.  They  say  the  lady  is  fair, — 'tis 
a  truth,  I  can  bear  them  witness;  and  vir- 
tuous,— 'tis  so,  I  cannot  reprove  it ;  and  wise, 
but  for  loving  me, — by  my  troth,  it  is  no  260 
addition  to  her  wit,  nor  no  great  argument 
of  her  folly,  for  I  will  be  horribly  in  love 
with  her.  I  may  chance  have  some  odd 
quirks  and  remnants  of  wit  broken  on  me, 
because  I  have  railed  so  long  against  mar- 
riage :  but  doth  not  the  appetite  alter  ?  a  man 
loves  the  meat  in  his  youth  that  he  cannot  en- 
dure in  his  age.  Shall  quips  and  sentences 
and  these  paper  bullets  of  the  brain  awe  a 
man  from  the  career  of  his  humor?  No,  the  270 
world  must  be  peopled.  When  I  said  I 
would  die  a  bachelor,  I  did  not  think  I 
should  live  till  I  were  married.  Here  comes 
Beatrice.  By  this  day !  she  's  a  fair  lady :  I 
do  spy  some  marks  of  love  in  her. 

Enter  Beatrice. 

Beat.  Against  my  will  I  am  sent  to  bid  you 

come  in  to  dinner. 
Bene.  Fair  Beatrice,   I   thank   you   for  your 

pains. 
Beat.  I  took  no  more  pains  for  those  thanks  280 

than  you  take  pains  to  thank  me:  if  it  had 

been  painful,  I  would  not  have  come. 
Bene.  You  take  pleasure,  then,  in  the  message? 
Beat.  Yea,  just  so  much  as  you  may  take  upon 

a  knife's  point,  and  choke  a  daw  withal. 

48 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  ii.  Sc.  m. 

You  have  no  stomach,  signior :  fare  you  well. 

[Eant. 
Bene.  Hal  'Against  my  will  I  am  sent  to  bid 
you  come  in  to  dinner ;'  there  's  a  double 
meaning  in  that.  'I  took  no  more  pains  for 
those  thanks  than  you  took  pains  to  thank  290 
me ;'  that 's  as  much  as  to  say,  Any  pains  that 
I  take  for  you  is  as  easy  as  thanks.  If  I  do 
not  take  pity  of  her,  I  am  a  villain;  if  I  do 
not  love  her,  I  am  a  Jew.  I  will  go  get  her 
picture.  lEant 

XIX— 4 


*9 


Aa  III.  Sc.  i.  MUCH  ADO 


ACT  THIRD 

Scene  I 

JLeonato's  orchard. 

Enter  Hero,  Margaret,  and  Ursula 

Hero.  Good  JNIargaret,  run  thee  to  the  parlor 
There  shalt  thou  find  my  cousin  Beatrice 
Proposing  with  the  prince  and  Claudio: 
Whisper  her  ear,  and  tell  her,  I  and  Ursula 
Walk  in  the  orchard,  and  our  whole  discourse 
Is  all  of  her;  say  that  thou  overheard'st  us; 
And  hid  her  steal  into  the  pleached  bower. 
Where  honeysuckles,  ripen'd  by  the  sun. 
Forbid  the  sun  to  enter;  like  favorites, 
JNIade    proud   by    princes,    that    advance   their 
pride  10 

Against  that  power  that  bred  it :  there  will  she 

hide  her, 
To  listen  our  propose.     This  is  thy  office ; 
Bear  thee  well  in  it,  and  leave  us  alone. 
Marg.  I  '11   make   her   come,    I   warrant   you, 
JL  presently.  [Exit. 

yij/^^^^tTerb.  No^--,  Ursula,  when  Beatrice  doth  come, 
r'^  As  we  do  trace  this  alley  up  and  down. 

Our  talk  must  only  be  of  Benedick. 
When  I  do  name  him,  let  it  be  thy  part 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  ill.  Sc.  i. 

To  praise  him  more  than  ever  man  did  merit: 
My  talk  to  thee  must  be,  how  Benedick       -0 
Is  sick  in  love  with  Beatrice.     Of  this  matter 
Is  little  Cupid's  crafty  arrow  made, 
That  only  wounds  by  hearsay. 

Enter  Beatrice,  behind. 

Now  begin; 
For  look  where  Beatrice,  like  a  lapwing,  runs 
Close  by  the  ground,  to  hear  our  conference. 
Urs.  The  pleasant'st  angling  is  to  see  the  fish 
Cut  with  her  golden  oars  the  silver  stream. 
And  greedily  devour  the  treacherous  bait: 
So  angle  we  for  Beatrice;  who  even  now 
Is  couched  in  the  woodbine  coverture.  30 

Fear  you  not  my  part  of  the  dialogue. 
Hero.  Then  go  we  near  her,  that  her  ear  lose  noth- 
ing 
Of  the  false  sweet  bait  that  we  lay  for  it. 

[J  pproach ing  th  e  hoxver. 

I  know  her  spirits  are  as  coy  and  wild  ^^-^^-"^'^^ 

As  haggerds  of  the  rock. 
Urs.  But  are  you  sure  (J<*-r^''^X^ 

That  Benedick  loves.  Beatrice  so  entirely?      ^p^-^^-^'^'^^ 
Hero.  So  says  the  prince  and  my  new-trothed  lord. 
Urs.  And  did  they  bid  you  tell  her  of  it,  madam? 
Hero.  They  did  entreat  me  to  acquaint  her  of  it ;  40 

But  I  persuaded  them,  if  they  loved  Benedick, 

To  wish  him  wrestle  with  affection, 

And  never  to  let  Beatrice  know  of  it. 
Urs.  Why  did  you  so?     Doth  not  the  gentleman 

51 


No,  truly,  Ursula,  she  is  too  disdainful;    V^^""^-"^ 


Act  III.  sc.  i.  MUCH  ADO 

Deserve  as  full  as  fortunate  a  bed 
_^  As  ever  Beatrice  shall  couch  upon? 

'^        Hero.  O  god  of  love !     I  know  he  doth  deserve 
Af^^^*^^^^      As  much  as  may  be  yielded  to  a  man: 

But  Nature  never  framed  a  woman's  heart 
Of  prouder  stuff  than  that  of  Beatrice;       50 
Disdain  and  scorn  ride  sparkling  in  her  eyes, 
Misprising  what  they  look  on;  and  her  wit 
Values  itsfelf  so  highly,  that  to  her 
All  matter  else  seems  weak :  she  cannot  love, 
Nor  take  no  shape  nor  project  of  affection, 
She  is  so  self-endeared. 
aJj         Urs.  Sure,  I  think  so; 

^''^'iM'^i/S^      And  therefore  certainly  it  were  not  good 
She  knew  his  love,  lest  she  make  sport  at  it. 
Hero,  Why,  you  speak  truth.     I  never  yet  saw 
man, 
How    wise,    how    noble,    young,    how    rarely 
featured,  60 

But  she  would  spell  him  backward:  if  fair- 
faced, 
She  would  swear  the  gentleman  should  be  her 

sister ; 
If  black,  why.  Nature,  drawing  of  an  antique. 
Made  a  foul  blot;  if  tall,  a  lance  ill-headed; 
If  low,  an  agate  very  vilely  cut; 
If  speaking,  why,  a  vane  blown  with  all  winds; 
If  silent,  why,  a  block  moved  with  none. 
So  turns  she  every  man  the  wrong  side  out; 
And  never  gives  to  truth  and  virtue  that 
Which  simpleness  and  merit  purchaseth.       70 
Urs.  Sure,  sure,  such  carping  is  not  commendable. 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  in.  Sc.  i. 

Hero.  No,  not  to  be  so  odd,  anoirom  all  fashions, 
As  Beatrice  is,  cannot  be  commendable: 
But  who  dare  tell  her  so?     If  I  should  speak, 
She  would  mock  me  into  air;  O,  she  would 

laugh  me 
Out  of  myself,  press  me  to  death  with  wit  I 
Therefore  let  Benedick,  like  cover'd  fire. 
Consume  away  in  sighs,  waste  inwardly: 
It  were  a  better  death  than  die  with  mocks, 
Which  is  as  bad  as  die  with  tickling.  80 

Urs.  Yet  tell  her  of  it :  hear  what  she  will  say. 

Hero.  No;  rather  I  will  go  to  Benedick, 

And  counsel  him  to  fight  against  his  passion. 
And,  truly,  I  '11  devise  some  honest  slanders       ^ 
To  stain  my  cousin  with :  one  doth  not  know 
How  much  an  ill  word  vcvslj  empoison  liking. 

Urs.  O,  do  not  do  your  cousin  such  a  wrong  I 

She  cannot  be  so  much  without  true   judg- 
ment,— 
Having  so  swift  and  excellent  a  wit 
As  she  is  prized  to  have, — as  to  refuse  90 

So  rare  a  gentleman  as  Signior  Benedick. 

Hero.  He  is  the  only  man  of  Italy, 
Always  excepted  my  dear  Claudio. 

Urs.  I  pray  you,  be  not  angry  with  me,  madam, 
Speaking  my  fancy:  Signior  Benedick, 
For  shape,  for  bearing,  argument  and  valor, 
Goes  foremost  in  report  through  Italy. 

Hero.  Indeed,  he  hath  an  excellent  good  name. 

Urs.  His  excellence  did  earn  it,  ere  he  had  it. 

When  are  vou  married,  madam?  100 

Hero.  Why,  evby  day,  to-morrow.     Come,  go  in: 

5S  ^i-xA^  gL/VA^a^ 


Aci  111.  Sc.  i.  MUCH  ADO 

I  '11   show   thee   some    attires;    and   have    thy 

counsel 
Which  is  the  best  to  furnish  me  to-morrow. 
Urs,  She  's  limed,  I  warrant  you :  we  have  caught 

her,  madam. 
Hero.  If  it  prove  so,  then  loving  goes  by  haps: 
Some  Cupid  kills  with  arrows,  some  with  traps. 

[Exeunt  Hero  and  Ursula. 

Beat  [Coming  forward]   What  fire   is   in   mine 
ears?     Can  this  be  true? 
Stand  I  condemn'd  for  pride  and  scorn  so 
much  ? 
Contempt,  farewell!  and  maiden  pride,  adieu! 

No  glory  lives  behind  the  back  of  such.     HO 
And,  Benedick,  love  on ;  I  will  requite  thee. 

Taming  my  wild  heart  to  thy  loving  hand : 
If  thou  dost  love,  my  kindness  shall  incite  thee 

To  bind  our  loves  up  in  a  holy  band ; 
For  others  say  thou  dost  deserve,  and  I 

Believe  it  better  than  reportingly.  [Exit. 

I 

lOtj.  "What  fire  is  in  my  ears";  alluding  to  tiie  proverbial  saying, 
which  is  as  old  as  Pliny's  time,  "That  when  our  ears  do  gloir  and 
tingle,  some  there  be  that  in  our  absence  do  talke  of  us." — H.  N.  H. 

11^.  "Taming  my  wild  heart";  this  image  is  taken  from  falconry. 
Siie  has  been  charged  with  being  as  wild  as  haggards  of  the  rock; 
she  therefore  says,  that  wild  as  her  heart  is,  she  will  tame  it  to  the 
hand.—H.  N.  H. 


5i 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  iii.  Sc.  ii. 


Scene  II 

'A  room  in  Leonato's  house. 
Enter  Don  Pedro,  Claudio,  Benedick  and  Leonato. 

D.  Pedro.  I  do  but  stay  till  your  marriage  be 
consummate,  and  then  go  I  toward  Arra- 
gon. 

Claud.  I  '11  bring  you  thither,  my  lord,  if  you  '11 
vouchsafe  me. 

D.  Pedro.  Nay,  that  would  be  as  great  a  soil  in 
the  new  gloss  of  your  marriage,  as  to  show 
a  child  his  new  coat  and  forbid  him  to  wear 
it.  I  will  only  be  bold  with  Benedick  for 
his  company;  for,  from  the  crown  of  his  10 
head  to  the  sole  of  his  foot,  he  is  all  mirth: 
he  hath  twice  or  thrice  cut  Cupid's  bow- 
string, and  the  little  hangman  dare  not  shoot 
at  him;  he  hath  a  heart  as  sound  as  a  bell, 
and  his  tongue  is  the  clapper,  for  what  his 
heart  thinks  his  tongue  speaks. 

Bene.  Gallants,  I  am  not  as  I  have  been. 

Leon.  So  say  I  :  methinks  you  are  sadder. 

Claud.  I  hope  he  be  in  love. 

D.  Pedro.  Hang  him,  truant!  there's  no  true   20 
drop  of  blood  in  him,  to  be  truly  touched 
with  love;  if  he  be  sad,  he  wants  money. 

Bene.  I  have  the  toothache. 

13.  "fhe  little  hangman";  that  is,  executioner,  slaver  of  hearts.— 

n.  N.  H. 

55 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.  MUCH  ADO 

D,  Pedro.  Draw  it. 

Bene.  Hang  it ! 

Claud,  You  must  hang  it  first,  and  draw  it 
afterwards. 

D.  Pedro.  What!  sigh  for  the  toothache? 

Leon.  Where  is  but  a  humor  or  a  worm. 

Bene.  Well,  every  one  can  master  a  grief  but    30 
he  that  has  it. 

Claud.  Yet  say  I,  he  is  in  love.  \    , 

D.  Pedro.  There  is  no  appearance  of  fancy  in 
him,  unless  it  be  a  fancy  that  he  hath  to 
strange  disguises;  as,  to  be  a  Dutchman  to- 
day, a  Frenchman  to-morrow;  or  in  the 
shape  of  two  countries  at  once,  as,  a  German 
from  the  waist  downward,  all  slops,  and  a 
Spaniard  from  the  hip  upward,  no  doublet. 
Unless  he  have  a  fancy  to  this  foolery,  as  it   40 

24.  "Draw  it.  Hang  it!"  Benedick  quibbles  on  "draw"  in  tlie 
sense  of  "drag  on  hurdles  to  execution." — C.  H.  H. 

29.  "Where  is  but  a  humor  or  a  worm";  toothache  was  popularly 
supposed  to  be  caused  by  a  worm  at  the  root  of  the  tooth. — I.  G. 

So,  in  The  False  One,  by  Beaumont  and  Fletcher: 

"O!  this  sounds  mangily, 
Poorly,  and  scurvily,  in  a  soldier's  mouth 
You  had  best  be  troubled  with  the  tooth-ache  too, 
For  lovers  ever  are. — H.  N.  H. 

37.  "in  shape  of  trco  countries  at  once";  so,  in  The  Seven  Deadly 
Sinnes  of  London,  by  Dekker,  1606:  "For  an  Englishman's  sute  is 
like  a  traitor's  body  that  hath  beene  hanged,  drawne,  and  quartered, 
and  is  set  up  in  several  places:  his  codpiece,  in  Denniarke;  the 
collar  of  his  dublet  and  the  belly,  in  France;  the  wing  and  narrow 
sleeve,  in  Italy;  the  short  M'aste  hangs  over  a  botcher's  stall  in 
Utrich;  his  huge  sloppes  speak  Spanish;  Polonia  gives  him  the 
bootes,  &c. — and  thus  we  mocke  everie  nation  for  keeping  one 
fashion,  yet  steals  patches  from  everie  of  them  to  piece  out  our 
pride;  and  are  now  laughingstocks  to  them,  because  their  cut  so 
scurvily  becomes  us." — H.  N.  H. 

56 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  ill.  Sc.  ii. 

appears  he  liath,  he  is  no  fool  for  fancy,  as 

you  would  have  it  appear  he  is. 
Claud.  If  he  be  not  in  love  with  some  woman, 

there  is  no  believing  old  signs :  a'  brushes  his 

hat  o'  mornings;  what  should  that  bode? 
D.   Pedro.  Hath   any   man   seen   him   at   the 

barber's  ? 
Claud.  No,  but  the  barber's  man  hath  been  seen 

with  him;  and  the  old  ornament  of  his  cheek 

hath  already  stuffed  tennis-balls.  50 

Leon.  Indeed,  he  looks  younger  than  he  did,  by 

the  loss  of  a  beard. 
D.  Pedro.  Nay,  a'  rubs  himself  with  civet:  can 

you  smell  him  out  by  that  ? 
Claud.  That 's  as  much  as  to  say,  the  sweet 

youth  's  in  love. 
D.  Pedro.  The  greatest  note  of  it  is  his  melan- 
choly. 
Claud.  And  when  was  he  wont  to  wash  his 

face?  60 

D.  Pedro.  Yea,  or  to  paint  himself?  for  the 

which,  I  hear  w^iat  they  say  of  him. 
Claud.  Nay,  but  his  jesting  spirit;  which  is  now 

crept  into  a  lute-string,  and  now  governed 

by  stops. 
D.  Pedro.  Indeed,  that  tells  a  heavy  tale  for 

him;  conclude,  conclude  he  is  in  love. 
Claud.  Nay,  but  I  know  who  loves  him. 

Gi.  "crept  into  a  lute-string" ;  love-songs,  in  Shakespeare's  time, 
were  sung  to  the  lute.  So,  in  1  Henry  IV:  "As  melancholy  as  an 
old  lion,  or  a  lover's  lute." — H.  N.  H. 


57 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.  MUCH  ADO 

D.  Pedro.  That  would  I  know  too:  I  warrant, 
one  that  knows  him  not.  70 

Claud.  Yes,  and  his  ill  conditions;  and,  in  de- 
spite of  all,  dies  for  him. 

D.  Pedro.  She  shall  be  buried  with  her  face  up- 
wards. 

Bene.  Yet  is  this  no  charm  for  the  toothache. 
Old  signior,  walk  aside  with  me:  I  have 
studied  eight  or  nine  wise  words  to  speak  to 
you,  \N'hich  these  hobby-horses  must  not  hear. 

[^Exeunt  Benedick  and  Leonato. 

D.  Pedro.  For  my  life,  to  break  with  him 
about  Beatrice.  ^0 

Claud.  'Tis  even  so.  Hero  and  Margaret  have 
by  this  played  their  parts  with  Beatrice ;  and 
then  the  two  bears  will  not  bite  one  another 
when  they  meet. 

Enter  Don  John. 

D.  John.  ^ly  lord  and  brother,  God  save  you! 

D.  Pedro.  Good  den,  brother. 

1).  John.  If  yovn*  leisure  served,  I  would  speak 
with  you. 

D.  Pedro.  In  private? 

D.  Jolin.  If  it  please  you:  yet  Count  Claudio    90 
may  hear;  for  what  I  would  speak  of  con- 
cerns him. 

74.  "face  vpirnntti";  that  is,  in  her  lover's  arms.     So,  in  The  Win- 
ter's  Tale: 

"Flo.  What!  like  a  corse? 

Per.  No,  like  a  bank  for  love  to  lie  and  play  on; 
Not  like  a  corse: — or  if, — not  to  be  buried, 
Bnt  quick  and  in  my  arms."— H.  N.  H. 

58 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  III.  Sc.  ii. 

D.  Pedro.  What's  the  matter? 

D.  John.  [To  Claudio]  Means  your  lordship  to 
be  married  to-morrow? 

D.  Pedro.  You  know  he  does. 

D.  John.  I  know  not  that,  when  he  knows  what 
I  know. 

Claud.  If  there  be  any  impediment,  I  pray  you 
discover  it.  1^^ 

D.  John.  You  may  think  I  love  you  not:  let 
that  appear  hereafter,  and  aim  better  at  me 
by  that  I  now  will  manifest.  For  my 
brother,  I  think  he  holds  you  well,  and  in 
dearness  of  heart  hath  holp  to  effect  your 
ensuing  marriage,— surely  suit  ill  spent  and 
labor  ill  bestowed. 

D.  Pedro.  Why,  what 's  the  matter  ? 

D.  John.  I  came  hither  to  tell  you;  and,  cir- 
cumstances shortened,  for  she  has  been  too  HO 
long  a  talking  of,  the  ladv  is  disloyal. 

Claud.  Who,  Hero? 

D.  John.  Even  she;  Leonato's  Hero,  j'^our 
Hero,  every  man's  Hero. 

Claud.  Disloyal? 

D.  Johu.  The  word  is  too  good  to  paint  out  her 
wickedness;  I  could  say  she  were  worse; 
think  you  of  a  worse  title,  md  I  will  fit  her 
to  it.  Wonder  not  till  further  warrant :  go 
but  with  me  to-night,  you  shall  see  her  120 
chamber-window  entered,  even  the  night  be- 
fore her  wedding-day :  if  you  love  her  then, 
to-morrow  wed  her;  but  it  would  better  fit 
your  honor  to  change  your  mind. 

59 


Act  III.  Sc.  iii.  MUCH  ADO 

Claud.  May  this  be  so? 

D.  Pedro.  I  will  not  think  it. 

D.  John.  If  you  dare  not  trust  that  you  see, 
confess  not  that  you  know:  if  you  will  fol- 
low me,  I  will  show  you  enough;  and  when 
you  have  seen  more,  and  heard  more,  pro- 130 
ceed  accordingly. 

Claud.  If  I  see  anytliing  to-night  why  I 
should  not  marry  her  to-morrow,  in  the  con- 
gregation, where  I  should  wed,  there  will  I 
shame  her. 

D.  Pedro.  And,  as  I  wooed  for  thee  to  obtain 
her,  I  will  join  with  thee  to  disgrace  her. 

D.  John.  I  will  disparage  her  no  farther  till  you 
are  my  witnesses :  bear  it  coldly  but  till  mid- 
night, and  let  the  issue  show  itself.  140 

D.  Pedro.  O  day  untowardly  turned! 

Claud.  O  mischief  strangely  thwarting! 

D.  John.  O  plague  right  well  prevented!  so 
will  you  say  when  you  have  seen  the  sequel. 

[EiVeunt. 

Scene  III 

A  street. 

Enter  Dogberry  and  Verges  with  the  Watch. 

Dog.  Are  you  good  men  and  true? 
Verg.  Yea,  or  else  it  were  pity  but  they  should 
suiFer  salvation,  body  and  soul. 

1.  It  is  an  interesting   fact  that  "Dogberry,"  the  vulgar  name  of 
the  dogwood,  was   used  as  a  surname  as  far  back  as  the  time  of 

60 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  iii.  Sc.  iii. 

Dog.  Nay,  that  were  a  punishment  too  good 
for  them,  if  they  should  have  any  allegiance 
in  them,  being  chosen  for  the  prince's 
watch. 

Verg.  Well,  give  them  their  charge,  neighbor 
Dogberry. 

Dog.  First,  who  think  you  the  most  desartless    10 
man  to  be  constable? 

First  Watch.  Hugh  Otecake,  sir,  or  George 
Seacole;  for  they  can  write  and  read. 

Dog.  Come  hither,  neighbor  Seacole.  God 
hath  blessed  you  with  a  good  name:  to  be  a 
well-favored  man  is  the  gift  of  fortune ;  but 
to  write  and  read  comes  by  nature. 

Sec.  Watch.  Both  which,  master  constable, — 

Dog.  You  have:  I  knew  it  would  be  your  an- 
swer. Well,  for  your  favor,  sir,  why,  give 
God  thanks,  and  make  no  boast  of  it;  and 
for  your  writing  and  reading,  let  that  ap- 
pear when  there  is  no  need  of  such  vanity. 
You  are  thought  here  to  be  the  most  sense- 
less and  fit  man  for  the  constable  of  the 
watch ;  therefore  bear  you  the  lantern.  This 
is  your  charge:  you  shall  comprehend  all 
vagrom  men ;  you  are  to  bid  any  man  stand, 
in  the  prince's  name. 
Sec.  Watch.  How  if  a'  will  not  stand?  30 

Dog.  Why,  then,  take  no  note  of  him,  but  let 

Richard  II,  and  thai  "Verges,"  a  provhicial  corruption  or  verjuice, 
occurs  in  an  ancient  MS.  (MS.  Ashmol.  38)  as  the  name  of  a 
usurer  whose  epitaph  is  given  ^ 

"Here  lies  father  Varges 
Who  died  to  save  charges." — I.  G. 

61 


20 


Act  III.  Sc.  Hi.  MUCH  ADO 

him  go;  and  presently  call  the  rest  of  the 
watch  together,  and  tliank  God  you  are  rid 
of  a  knave. 

Verg.  If  he  will  not  stand  when  he  is  bidden, 
he  is  none  of  the  prince's  subjects. 

Dog.  Trvie,  and  they  are  to  meddle  with  none 
but  the  prince's  subjects.     You  shall  also 
make  no  noise  in  the  streets;  for  for  the 
watch  to  babble  and  to  talk  is  most  tolerable    40 
and  not  to  be  endured. 

Watch.  We  will  rather  sleep  than  talk:  ^\'e 
know  what  belongs  to  a  watch. 

JDog.  Why,  you  speak  like  an  ancient  and  most 
quiet  watchman ;  for  I  cannot  see  how  sleep- 
ing should  offend:  only,  have  a  care  that 
your  bills  be  not  stolen.  Well,  you  are  to 
call  at  all  the  ale-houses,  and  bid  those  that 
are  drunk  get  them  to  bed. 

Watch.  How  if  they  will  not?  50 

Dog.  Why,  then,  let  them  alone  till  tliey  are 
sober:  if  they  make  you  not  then  the  better 
answer,  you  may  say  they  are  not  the  men 
A'ou  took  them  for. 

Watch.  AVell,  sir. 

Dog.  If  you  meet  a  thief,  you  maj^  suspect 
him,  by  virtue  of  your  office,  to  be  no  true 
man;  and,  for  such  kind  of  men,  the  less  you 
meddle  or  make  with  tliem,  why,  the  more  is 
for  your  honesty.  60 

Watch.  If  we  know  him  to  be  a  thief,  shall  we 
not  lay  hands  on  him? 

Dog.  Truly,  by  your  office,  you  mav;  but  I 

62 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  ill.  Sc.  iii. 

think  they  that  touch  pitch  will  he  defiled: 
the  most  peaceahle  way  for  you,  if  you  do 
take  a  thief,  is  to  let  him  show  himself  what 
he  is,  and  steal  out  of  your  company. 

Verg,  You  have  been  always  called  a  merciful 
man,  partner. 

Dog.  Truly,  I  would  not  hang  a  dog  by  my    ''^0 
will,  much  more  a  man  who  hath  any  honesty 
in  him. 

Verg.  If  you  hear  a  child  crying  in  the  night, 
you  must  call  to  the  nurse  and  bid  her  still  it. 

Watch.  How  if  the  nurse  be  asleep  and  will  not 
hear  us? 

Dog.  Why,  then,  depart  in  peace,  and  let  the 
child  wake  her  with  crying ;  for  the  ewe  that 
will  not  hear  her  lamb  when  it  baes  will 
never  answer  a  calf  when  he  bleats.  80 

Verg.  'Tis  very  true. 

Dog.  This  is  the  end  of  the  charge: — ^you,  con- 
stable, are  to  present  the  prince's  own 
person ;  if  you  meet  the  prince  in  the  night, 
you  maj'^  stay  him. 

Verg.  Nay,  by  'r  lady,  that  I  think  a'  cannot. 

Dog.  Five  shillings  to  one  on  't,  with  any  man 
that  knows  the  statues,  he  may  staj^  him: 
marry,  not  without  the  prince  be  willing; 
for,  indeed,  the  watch  ought  to  offend  no  ^0 
man;  and  it  is  an  offense  to  stay  a  man 
aganist  his  will. 

Verg.  By  'r  lady,  1  think  it  be  so. 

Dog.  Ha,  ah,  ha!  AN'ell,  masters,  good  night: 
an  there  be  any  matter  of  weight  chances, 

6'o 


Act  III.  Sc.  iii.  MUCH  ADO 

call  up  me:  keep  your  fellows'  counsels  and 
your  own;  and  good  night.  Come,  neigh- 
bor. 

Watch.  Well,  masters,  we  hear  our  charge:  let 
us  go  sit  here  upon  the  church-bench  till  ^00 
two,  and  then  all  to  bed. 

Dog.  One  word  more,  honest  neighbors.  I 
pray  you,  watch  about  Signior  Leonato's 
door;  for  the  wedding  being  there  to-mor- 
row, there  is  a  great  coil  to-night.  Adieu: 
be  vigitant,  I  beseech  you. 

[Exeunt  Dogberry  and  Verges. 

Enter  Borachio  and  Conrade, 

Bora.  What,  Conrade! 

Watch.  [Aside']  Peace  1  stir  not. 

Bora.  Conrade,  I  say  I 

Con.  Here,  man ;  I  am  at  thy  elbow.  HO 

Bora.  Mass,  and  my  elbow  itched;  I  thought 
there  would  a  scab  follow. 

Con.  I  will  owe  thee  an  answer  for  that:  and 
now  forward  with  thy  tale. 

Bora.  Stand  thee  close,  then,  under  this  pent- 
house, for  it  drizzles  rain ;  and  I  will,  like  a 
true  drunkard,  utter  all  to  thee. 

Watch.  [Aside]  Some  treason,  masters:  yet 
stand  close. 

Bora.  Therefore  know  I  have  earned  of  Don  120 
John  a  thousand  ducats. 

96.  "Keep  your  fellows'  counsels  and  your  own."  It  has  been 
pointed  out  by  students  of  Shakespeare's  legal  acquirements  that 
these  words  still  form  part  of  the  oath  administered  by  judges' 
marshal  to  the  grand  jurymen  at  the  present  day. — I.  G. 

64 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  in.  Sc.  iii. 

Con.  Is  it  possible  that  any  villainy  should  be  so 
dear? 

Bora.  Thou  shouldst  rather  ask,  if  it  were  pos- 
sible any  villainy  should  be  so  rich ;  for  when 
rich  villains  have  need  of  poor  ones,  poor 
ones  may  make  what  price  they  will. 

Con.  I  wonder  at  it. 

Bora.  That  shows  thou  art  unconfirmed.    Thou 
knowest  that  the  fashion  of  a  doublet,  or  a  1<?0 
hat,  or  a  cloak,  is  nothing  to  a  man. 

Con.  Yes,  it  is  apparel. 

Bora.  I  mean,  the  fashion. 

Con.  Yes,  the  fashion  is  the  fashion. 

Bora.  Tush!  I  may  as  well  say  the  fool's  the 
fool.  But  seest  thou  not  what  a  deformed 
thief  this  fashion  is? 

Watch.  [Asidel  I  know  that  Deformed;  a*  has 
been  a  vile  thief  this  seven  year;  a'  goes  up 
and  down  like  a  gentleman :  I  remember  his  140 
name. 

Bora.  Didst  thou  not  hear  somebody? 

Con.  No;  'twas  the  vane  on  the  house. 

Bora.  Seest  thou  not,  I  say,  what  a  deformed 

thief  this  fashion  is?  how  giddily  a'  turns 

about  all  the  hot  bloods  between  fourteen 

and   five-and-thirty  ?   sometimes    fashioning 

them  like  Pharaoh's  soldiers  in  the  reecliy 

painting,  sometime  like  god  Bel's  priests  in 

the  old  church-window,   sometime  like  the  150 

shaven  Hercules  in  the  smirched  worm-eaten 

tapestry,  where  his  codpiece  seems  as  massy 

as  his  club? 
XIX-5  65 


Act  III.  Sc.  iii.  MUCH  ADO 

Con.  All  this  I  see;  and  I  see  that  the  fashion 
wears  out  more  apparel  than  the  man.  But 
art  not  thou  thyself  giddy  with  the  fashion 
too,  that  thou  has  shifted  out  of  thy  tale  into 
telling  me  of  the  fashion? 

Bora.  Not  so,  neither :  but  know  that  I  have  to- 
night wooed  IMargaret,  the  Lady  Hero's  160 
gentlewoman,  by  the  name  of  Hero;  she 
leans  me  out  her  at  mistress'  chamber-win- 
dow, bids  me  a  thousand  times  good  night, 
— I  tell  this  tale  vilely: — I  should  first  tell 
thee  how  the  prince,  Claudio  and  my 
master,  planted  and  placed  and  possessed  by 
my  master  Don  John,  saw  afar  off  in  the 
orchard  this  amiable  encounter. 

Con.  And  thought  they  Margaret  was  Hero? 

Bora.  Two  of  them  did,  the  prince  and  170 
Claudio;  but  the  devil  my  master  knew  she 
was  JMargaret;  and  partly  by  his  oaths, 
which  first  possessed  them,  partly  by  the 
dark  night,  which  did  deceive  them,  but 
chiefly  by  my  villainy,  which  did  confirm  any 
slander  that  Don  John  had  made,  away 
went  Claudio  enraged ;  swore  he  would  meet 
her,  as  he  was  appointed,  next  morning  at 
the  temple,  and  there,  before  the  whole  con- 
gregation, shame  her  with  what  he  saw  o'er  180 
night,  and  send  her  home  again  without  a 
husband. 

162,  "me";  the  ethical  dative.— C.  H.   H. 

168.  "amiable  encounter" ;  tender  meeting. — C.  H.  H. 

m 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  in.  Sc.  iv. 

First  Watch,  We  charge  you,  in  the  prince's 
name,  stand! 

Sec.  Watch.  Call  up  the  right  master  con- 
stable. We  have  here  recovered  the  most 
dangerous  piece  of  lechery  that  ever  was 
known  in  the  commonwealth. 

First  Watch.  And  one  Deformed  is  one  of 
them:  I  know  him;  a'  wears  a  lock.  190 

Con.  Masters,  masters, — 

Sec.  Watch.  You  '11  be  made  bring  Deformed 
forth,  I  warrant  you. 

Con.  Masters, — 

First  Watch.  Never  speak:  we  charge  you  let 
us  obey  you  to  go  with  us. 

Bora.  We  are  like  to  prove  a  goodly  commod- 
ity, being  taken  up  of  these  men's  bills. 

Con.  A  commodity  in  question,  I  warrant  you. 
Come,  we  '11  obey  you.  [Exeunt.  200 


Scene  IV 

Hero's  apartment. 

Enter  Hero,  Margaret,  and  Ursula. 

Hero.  Good  Ursula,  wake  my  cousin  Beatrice, 

and  desire  her  to  rise. 
Urs.  I  will,  lady. 
Hero.  And  bid  her  come  hither. 
Urs.  Well.  [Exit. 

200.  "obey,"  for  "command."— C.  H.  H. 
67 


Act  III.  Sc.  iv.  MUCH  ADO 

Marg.  Troth,  I  think  your  other  rabato  were 
better. 

Hero.  No,  pray  thee,  good  Meg,  I  '11  wear  this. 

Marg.  By  my  troth  's  not  so  good ;  and  I  war- 
rant your  cousin  will  say  so.  10 

Hero.  My  cousin  's  a  fool,  and  thou  art  another: 
I  '11  wear  none  but  this. 

Marg.  I  like  the  new  tire  within  excellently,  if 
the  hair  were  a  thought  browner;  and  your 
gown  's  a  most  rare  fashion,  i'  faith.  I  saw 
the  Duchess  of  Milan's  gown  that  they 
praise  so. 

Hero.  O,  that  exceeds,  they  say.  ^  ft^fMui.« 

Marg.  By  my  troth  's  but  a  night-gown  m  re^ 
spect  of  yours,^cloth  o'  gold,  and  cuts,  and  20 
laced  with  silver,  set  with  pearls,  down 
sleeves,  side  sleeves,  and  skirts,  round  under- 
borne  with  a  bluish  tinsel:  but  for  a  fine, 
quaint,  graceful  and  excellent  fashion, 
yours  is  worth  ten  on  't. 

Hero.  God  give  me  joy  to  wear  it!  for  my 
heart  is  exceeding  heavy. 

Marg.  'Twill  be  heavier  soon  by  the  weight  of 
a  man. 

21.  "set  with  pearls";  that  is,  with  pearls  set  along  down  the 
sleeves.  Side  sleeves  are  long,  full  sleeves.  Side  is  from  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  sid,  long,  ample.  Peele,  in  his  Old  Wives'  Tale,  has  "side 
slops,"  for  long  trousers.  So,  likewise,  in  Jonson's  play,  The  New 
Jtm,  Act  V.  scene  i.; 

"He  belly'd  for  it,  had  his  velvet  sleeves. 
And  his  branched  cassock,  a  side  sweeping  gown, 
All  his  formalities,  a  good  craram'd  divine." 

It  is  plain  that  our  word  side,  in  its  ordinary  use,  has  reference  to 
the  length  of  the  thing  to  which  it  is  applied. — H.  N.  H. 

68 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  iii.  Sc.  iv. 

Hero.  Fie  upon  thee  I  art  not  ashamed?  30 

Marg,  Of  what,  lady?  of  speaking  honorably? 
Is  not  marriage  honorable  in  a  beggar?  Is 
not  your  lord  honorable  without  marriage? 
I  think  you  would  have  me  say,  'saving  your 
reverence,  a  husband:'  an  bad  thinking  do 
not  wrest  true  speaking,  I  '11  offend  nobody : 
is  there  any  harm  in  'the  heavier  for  a  hus- 
band'? None,  I  think,  an  it  be  the  right 
husband  and  the  right  wife;  otherwise  'tis 
light,  and  not  heavy :  ask  my  Lady  Beatrice  40 
else;  here  she  comes. 

Enter  Beatrice, 

Hero.  Good  morrow,  coz. 

Beat.  Good  morrow,  sweet  Hero. 

Hero.  Why,  how  now?  do  you  speak  in  the  sick 

tune? 
Beat.  I  am  out  of  all  other  tune,  methinks. 
Marg.  Clap  's  into  'Light  o'  love ;'  that  goes 

without  a  burden :  do  you  sing  it,  and  I  '11 

dance  it. 
Beat.  Ye  light  o'  love,  with  your  heels !  then,  if    50 

your  husband  have  stables  enough,  you  '11  see 

he  shall  lack  no  barns. 
Marg.    O  illegitimate  construction  1 1  scorn  that 

with  my  heels. 

50.  "with  your  heels"  (carrying  on  the  notion  of  the  "light  o' 
love"),  agile,  i.  e.  fickle,  in  love. — C.  H.  H. 

52.  "he  shall  lack  no  barns";  a  quibble  between  barns,  repositories 
for  corn,  and  bairns,  children,  formerly  pronounced  barns.  So,  in 
The  Winter's  Tale:  "Mercy  on  us,  a  barn  I  a  very  pretty  barn!" — 
H.  N.  H. 

69 


Act  III.  Sc.  iv.  MUCH  ADO 

Beat.  'Tis  almost  five  o'clock,  cousin;  'tis  time 
you  were  ready.  By  my  troth,  I  am  ex- 
ceeding ill:  heigh-ho! 

Marg.  For  a  hawk,  a  horse,  or  a  husband  ?^^ 

Beat.  For  the  letter  that  begins  them  all,  H. 

Marg.  Well,    an    you    be    not    turned    Turk,   60 
there  's  no  more  sailing  by  the  star. 

Beat.  What  means  the  fool,  trow? 

Marg.  Nothing  I;  but  God  send  every  one 
their  heart's  desire! 

Hero.  These  gloves  the  count  sent  me ;  they  are 
an  excellent  perfume. 

Beat.  I  am  stuffed,  cousin;  I  cannot  smell. 

Marg.  A  maid,  and  stuffed !  there 's  goodly 
catching  of  cold. 

Beat.  O,   God  help  me  I   God  help  me!  how    '^0 
long  have  you  professed  apprehension? 

Marg.  Ever  since  you  left  it.  Doth  not  my 
wit  become  me  rarely? 

Beat.  It  is  not  seen  enough,  you  should  wear  it 
in  your  cap.     By  my  troth,  I  am  sick. 

Marg.  Get  you  some  of  this  distilled  Carduus 
Benedictus,  and  lay  it  to  your  heart :  it  is  the 
only  thing  for  a  qualm. 

Hero.  There  thou  prickest  her  with  a  thistle. 

Beat.  Benedictus!  why  Benedictus?  you  have    80 
some  moral  in  this  Benedictus. 

Marg.  Moral !  no,  by  my  troth,  I  have  no  moral 
meaning;  I  meant,  plain  holy-thistle.  You 
may  think  perchance  that  I  think  you  are  in 
love :  nay,  by  'r  lady,  I  am  not  such  a  fool 
to  think  what  I  list;  nor  I  list  not  to  think 

70 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  ill.  Sc.  v. 

what  I  can;  nor,  indeed,  I  cannot  think,  if 
I  would  think  my  heart  out  of  thinking,  that 
you  are  in  love,  or  that  you  will  be  in  love,  or 
that  you  can  be  in  love.  Yet  Benedick  was  90 
such  another,  and  now  is  he  become  a  man: 
he  swore  he  would  never  marry;  and  yet 
now,  in  despite  of  his  heart,  he  eats  his  meat 
without  grudging :  and  how  you  may  be  con- 
verted, I  know  not;  but  methinks  you  look 
with  your  eyes  as  other  women  do. 

Beat.  What  pace  is  this  that  thy  tongue  keeps  ? 

Marg.  Not  a  false  gallop. 

Re-enter  Ursula. 

Urs.  Madam,  withdraw:  the  prince,  the  count, 
Signior  Benedick,  Don  John,  and  all  the  100 
gallants  of  the  town,  are  come  to  fetch  you 
to  church. 

Hero.  Help  to  dress  me,  good  coz,  good  Meg, 
good  Ursula.  [Exeunt. 

Scene  V 

Another  room  in  Leonato's  house. 
Enter  Leonato,  with  Dogberry  and  Verges. 

Leon.  What  would  you  with  me,  honest  neigh- 
bor? 

Dog.  Marry,  sir,  I  would  have  some  confidence 
with  you  that  decerns  you  nearly. 

93.  "eats  his  meat  without  grudging" ;  that  is,  feeds  on  love,  and 
likes  his  food.— H.  N.  H. 
3.  "confidence";  for  conference.— C.  H.  H. 

n 


Act  III.  Sc.  V.  MUCH  ADO 

Leon.  Brief,  I  praj^  you;  for  you  see  it  is  a 
busy  time  with  me. 

Dog.  ilarry,  this  it  is,  sir. 

Verg.  Yes,  in  truth  it  is,  sir. 

Leon.  What  is  it,  my  good  friends? 

Dog.  Goodman  Verges,  sir,  speaks  a  httle  off    10 
the  matter :  an  old  man,  sir,  and  his  wits  are 
not  so  blunt  as,  God  help,  I  would  desire 
they  were;  but,  in  faith,  honest  as  the  skin 
between  his  brows. 

Verg.  Yes,  I  thank  God  I  am  as  honest  as  any 
man  living  that  is  an  old  man  and  no 
honester  than  I. 

Dog.  Comparisons  are  odorous:  palabras, 
neighbor  Verges. 

Leon.  Neighbors,  you  are  tedious. 

Dog.  It  pleases  your  worship  to  say  so,  but  we 
are  the  poor  duke's  officers;  but  truly,  for 
mine  own  part,  if  I  were  as  tedious  as  a 
king,  I  could  find  in  my  heart  to  bestow  it 
all  of  your  worship. 

Leon.  All  thy  tediousness  on  me,  ah? 

Dog.  Yea,  an  't  were  a  thousand  pound  more 
than  'tis ;  for  I  hear  as  good  exclamation  on 
your  worship  as  of  any  man  in  the  city ;  and 

18.  "Comparisons  are  odorous,"  An  elaborate  extension  of  this 
joke  occurs  in  the  old  plav  of  Sir  Gyles  Goosecappe  (c.  1603). — 
I.  G. 

2-2.  "the  poor  Duke's  officers";  this  stroke  of  pleasantry,  arising 
from  the  transposition  of  the  epithet  poor,  has  already  occurred  in 
Measure  for  Measure.  Elbow  says,  "If  it  please  your  honour,  I  am 
the  poor  Duke's  constable." — H.  N.  H. 

23.  "tedious";  Dogberry  understands  bv  the  word  "gracious,"  or  the 
like.— C.  H.  H. 

72 


20 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  III.  Sc.  v. 

though  I  be  but  a  poor  man,  I  am  glad  to    30 
hear  it. 

Verg.  And  so  am  I. 

Leon,  I  would  fain  know  what  you  have  to  say. 

Verg.  Marry,  sir,  our  watch  to-night,  except- 
ing your  worship's  presence,  ha'  ta'en  a 
couple  of  as  arrant  knaves  as  any  in  Messina. 

Dog.  A  good  old  man,  sir;  he  will  be  talking: 
as  they  say.  When  the  age  is  in,  the  wit  is 
out :  God  help  us !  it  is  a  world  to  see.  Well 
said,  i'  faith,  neighbor  Verges :  well,  God  's  '10 
a  good  man ;  an  two  men  ride  of  a  horse,  one 
must  ride  behind.  An  honest  soul,  i'  faith, 
sir;  by  my  troth  he  is,  as  ever  broke  bread; 
but  God  is  to  be  worshiped;  all  men  are  not 
alike;  alas,  good  neighbor! 

Leon.  Indeed,  neighbor,  he  comes  too  short  of 
you. 

Dog.  Gifts  that  God  gives. 

Leon.  I  must  leave  you. 

Dog.  One  word  sir :  our  watch,  sir,  have  indeed    50 
comprehended  two  aspicious  persons,  and  we 

38.  "When  the  age  is  in,  the  wit  is  out";  a  blunder  for  the  old 
proverbial  expression,  "when  the  ale  is  in,  wit  is  out" — 

"When  ale  is  in,  wit  is  out. 

When  ale  is  out,  wit  is  in, 
The  first  thou  showest  out  of  doubt. 
The  last  in  thee  hath  not  been." 

— Hevwood's   Epigrams  and  Proverbs. 

—I.  G. 

39.  "a  world  to  see" ;  this  was  a  common  apostrophe  of  admiration, 
equivalent  to  it  is  wonderful,  or  it  is  admirable.  Baret  in  his 
Alvearie,  1580,  explains  "It  is  a  world  to  heare"  by  "It  is  a  thing 
worthie  the  hearing,  audire  est  ofene  pretium."  In  Cavendish's  Life 
of  Wolsey  we  have  "Is  it  not  a  ivorld  to  consider?" — H.  N.  H. 

73 


Act  III.  Sc.  V.  MUCH  ADO 

would  have  them  this  morning  examined  be- 
fore your  worship. 

Leon.  Take  their  examination  yourself,  and 
bring  it  me:  I  am  now  in  great  haste,  as  it 
may  appear  unto  you. 

Dog.  It  shall  be  suffigance. 

Leon.  Drink  some  wine  ere  you  go:  fare  you 
well. 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Mess.  My  lord,  they  stay  for  you  to  give  your    60 
daughter  to  her  husband. 

Leon,  I '11  wait  upon  them:  I  am  ready. 

[Exeunt  Leonato  and  Messenger, 

Dog.  Go,  good  partner,  go,  get  you  to  Francis 
Seacole;  bid  him  bring  his  pen  and  inkhorn 
to  the  jail:  we  are  now  to  examination  these 
men. 

Verg.  And  we  must  do  it  wisely. 

Dog.  We  will  spare  for  no  wit,  I  warrant  you; 
here  's  that  shall  drive  some  of  them  to  a 
noncome :  only  get  the  learned  writer  to  set    70 
down  our  excommunication,  and  meet  me 
at  the  jail.  [Exeunt. 


74 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  iv.  Sc.  i. 


ACT  FOURTH 
Scene  I 

A  church, 

"Enter  Don  Pedro,  Don  John,  Leonato,  Friar 

Francis,  Claudio,  Benedick,  Hero,  Beatrice, 

and  attendants. 

Leon,  Come,  Friar  Francis,  be  brief;  only  to 
the  plain  form  of  marriage,  and  you  shall 
recount  their  particular  duties  afterwards. 

Friar.  You  come  hither,  my  lord,  to  marry  this 
lady. 

Claud.  No. 

Leon.  To  be  married  to  her :  friar,  you  come  to 
marry  her. 

Friar.  Lady,  you  come  hither  to  be  married  to 
this  count.  10 

Hero.  I  do. 

Friar.  If  either  of  you  know  any  inward  im- 
pediment why  you  should  not  be  conjoined, 
I  charge  you,  on  your  souls,  to  utter  it. 

Claud.  Know  you  any.  Hero? 

Hero.  None,  my  lord. 

12.  "know  any  inward  impediment" ;  this  is  borrowed  from  our 
marriage  ceremony,  which  (with  a  few  changes  in  phraseology)  is 
the  same  as  was  used  in  Shakespeare's  time. — H.  N.  H. 

75 


Act  IV.  Sc.  L  MUCH  ADO 

Friar,  Know  you  any,  count? 

Leon.  I  dare  make  his  answer,  none. 

Claud.  O,  what  men  dare  do!  what  men  may 
do!  what  men  daily  do,  not  knowing  what    20 
they  do! 

Beiie.  How  now!   interjections?    Why,   then, 
some  be  of  laughing,  as,  ah,  ha,  he  I 

Claud.  Stand  thee  by,  friar.     Father,  by  your 
leave : 
Will  you  with  free  and  unconstrained  soul 
Give  me  this  maid,  your  daughter? 

Leon.  As  freely,  son,  as  God  did  give  her  me. 

Claud.  And  what  have  I  to  give  you  back,  whose 
worth 
May  counterpoise  this  rich  and  precious  gift? 

D.  Pedro.  Nothing,  unless  you  render  her  again. 

Claud.  Sweet  prince,  you  learn  me  noble  thank- 
fulness. 31 
There,  Leonato,  take  her  back  again : 
Give  not  this  rotten  orange  to  your  friend; 
She  's  but  the  sign  and  semblance  of  her  honor. 
Behold  how  like  a  maid  she  blushes  here! 
O,  what  authority  and  show  of  truth 
Can  cunning  sin  cover  itself  withal! 
Comes  not  that  blood  as  modest  evidence 
To   witness   simple   virtue?     Would   you   not 

swear, 
All  you  that  see  her,  that  she  were  a  maid,     40 
By  these  exterior  shows?     But  she  is  none: 
She  knows  the  heat  of  a  luxurious  bed ; 

23.  "ah,  ha,  he.'";  Benedick  is  in  a  grammatical  state  of  mind,  and 
here  quotes  from  hif  Accidence. — H.  N.  H. 

76 


ABOUT  NOTHING  '      Act  iv.  Sc.  i. 

Her  blush  is  guiltiness,  not  modesty. 
Leon.  What  do  you  mean,  my  lord? 
Claud,  Not  to  be  married, 

Not  to  knit  my  soul  to  an  approved  wanton. 
Leon.  Dear  my  lord,  if  you,  in  your  own  proof, 

Have  vanquish'd  the  resistance  of  her  youth. 

And  made  defeat  of  her  virginity, — 
Claud.  I  know  what  you  would  say:  if  I  have 
known  her,  50 

You  will  say  she  did  embrace  me  as  a  husband, 
•    And  so  extenuate  the  'forehand  sin: 

No,  Leonato, 

I  never  tempted  her  with  word  too  large; 

'But,  as  a  brother  to  his  sister,  show'd 

Bashful  sincerity  and  comely  love. 
Hero.  And  seem'd  I  ever  otherwise  to  you? 
Claud.  Out    on    thee!     Seeming!    I    will    write 
against  it 

You  seem  to  me  as  Dian  in  her  orb, 

As  chaste  as  is  the  bud  ere  it  be  blown ;  60 

But  you  are  more  intemperate  in  your  blood 

Than  Venus,  or  those  pamper'd  animals 

That  rage  in  savage  sensuality. 
Hero.  Is  my  lord  well,  that  he  doth  speak  so  wide? 
Leon.  Sweet  prince,  why  speak  not  you? 
D.  Pedro.  What  should  I  speak: 

I  stand  dishonor'd,  that  have  gone  about 

To  link  my  dear  friend  to  a  common  stale. 
Leon.  Are  these  things  spoken,  or  do  I  but  dream  ? 

3:2.  "the  'forehand  sin";  an  act  which  was  sinful  only  because  pre- 
mature.—C.  H.   H. 


77 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  MUCH  ADO 

D.  John.  Sir,  they  are  spoken,  and  these  things 
are  true.  70 

Bene.  This  looks  not  hke  a  nuptial. 
Hero.  True!  O  God! 

Claud.  Leonato,  stand  I  here? 

Is  this  the  prince?  is  this  the  prince's  brother? 

Is  this  face  Hero's?  are  our  eyes  our  own? 
Leon.  All  this  is  so:  but  what  of  this,  my  lord? 
Claud.  Let  me  but  move  one   question  to  your 
daughter ; 

And,  by  that  fatherly  and  kindly  power 

That  you  have  in  her,  bid  her  answer  truly. 
Leon.  I  charge  thee  do  so,  as  thou  art  my  child. 
Hero.  O,  God  defend  me!  how  am  I  beset!        81 

What  kind  of  catechising  call  you  this? 
Claud.  To  make  you  answer  truly  to  your  name. 
Hero.  Is  it  not  Hero?     Who  can  blot  that  name 

With  any  just  reproach? 
Claud.  Marry,  that  can  Hero; 

Hero  itself  can  blot  out  Hero's  virtue. 

What  man  was  he  talk'd  with  you  yesternight 

Out  at  your  window  betwixt  twelve  and  one? 

Now,  if  you  are  a  maid,  answer  to  this.  9^ 

Hero.  I  talk'd  with  no  man  at  that  hour,  my  lord. 
D.  Pedro.  Why,     then     are     you     no     maiden. 
Leonato, 

I  am  sorry  you  must  hear :  upon  mine  honor. 

Myself,  my  brother,  and  this  grieved  count 

Did  see  her,  hear  her,  at  that  hour  last  night 

72.  "Truel  O  GodI";  Hero's  words  are  in  reply  to  the  speech  of 
John.  The  passage  is  usually  pointed  thus:  "True,  O  God!"  as  if 
it  were  in  answer  to  Benedick. — H.  N.  H. 

78 


3    Q. 


££ 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  iv.  Sc.  i. 

Talk  with  a  ruffian  at  her  chamber-window; 
Who  hath  indeed,  most  Hke  a  Hberal  villain, 
Confess'd  the  vile  encounters  they  have  had 
A  thousand  times  in  secret. 
D.  John.  Fie,  fie  I  they  are  not  to  be  named,  my 
lord,  100 

Not  to  be  spoke  of; 

There  is  not  chastity  enough  in  language, 
Without  oifense  to  utter  them.     Thus,  pretty 

lady, 
I  am  sorry  for  thy  much  misgovernment. 
Claud.  O  Hero,  what  a  Hero  hadst  thou  been. 
If  half  thy  outward  graces  had  been  placed 
About  thy  thoughts  and  counsels  of  thy  heart ! 
But  fare  thee  well,  most  foul,  most  fair!  fare- 
well, 
Thou  pure  impiety  and  impious  purity! 
For  thee  I  '11  lock  up  all  the  gates  of  love,      HO 
And  on  my  eyelids  shall  conjecture  hang, 
To  turn  all  beauty  into  thoughts  of  harm, 
And  never  shall  it  more  be  gracious. 
Leon.  Hath  no  man's  dagger  here  a  point  for  me? 

[Hero  swoons. 
Beat.  Why,  how  how,  cousin!  wherefore  sink  you 

down? 
D.  John.  Come,  let  us  go.     These  things,  come 
thus  to  light. 
Smother  her  spirits  up. 

[Exeunt  Don  Pedro,  Don  John,  and  Claudio. 
Bene.  How  doth  the  lady? 
Beat.  Dead,  I  think.     Help,  uncle! 

111.  "conjecture";  suspicion. — C.  H.  H. 

79 


; 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  MUCH  ADO 

Hero!  why.  Hero!  Uncle!  Signior  Benedick! 
Friar!*  120 

Leon.  O  Fate!  take  not  away  thy  heavy  hand. 
Death  is  the  fairest  cover  for  her  shame 
That  may  be  wish'd  for. 

Beat.  How  now,  cousin  Hero! 

'Priar,  Have  comfort,  lady. 

Leon.  Dost  thou  look  up? 

Friar.  Yea,  wherefore  should  she  not? 

Leon.  Wherefore!     Why,  doth  not  every  earthly 
thing 
Cry  shame  upon  her?     Could  she  here  deny 
The  story  that  is  printed  in  her  blood?  1<^0 

Do  not  live.  Hero;  do  not  ope  thine  eyes: 
For,  did  I  think  thou  wouldst  not  quickly  die. 
Thought  I  th}^  spirits  were  stronger  than  thy 

shames. 
Myself  would,  on  the  rearward  of  reproaches, 
Strike  at  thy  life.     Grieved  I,  I  had  but  one? 
Chid  I  for  that  at  frugal  nature's  frame? 
O,  one  too  much  by  thee!     Why  had  I  one? 
Why  ever  wast  thou  lovely  in  my  eyes  ? 
Why  had  I  not  with  charitable  hand 
Took  up  a  beggar's  issue  at  my  gates,  140 

Who  smirched  thus  and  mired  with  infamy, 
I  might  have  said,  'No  part  of  it  is  mine ; 
This  shame  derives  itself  from  unknown  loins'? 
But  mine,  and  mine  I  loved,  and  mine  I  praised. 
And  mine  that  I  was  proud  on,  mine  so  much 
That  I  myself  was  to  myself  not  mine, 

130.  "printed  in  her  blood";  that  is,  which  her  blushes  discovered 
to  be  true.— H.  N.  H. 

80 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  IV.  Sc.  i. 

Valuing  of  her, — why,  she,  O,  she  is  fallen 
Into  a  pit  of  ink,  that  the  wide  sea 
Hath  drops  too  few  to  wash  her  clean  again, 
And  salt  too  little  which  may  season  give      150 
To  her  foul-tainted  flesh! 

Bene.  Sir,  sir,  be  patient. 

For  my  part,  I  am  so  attired  in  wonder, 
I  know  not  what  to  say. 

Beat.  O,  on  my  soul,  my  cousin  is  belied! 

Bene.  Lady,  were  you  her  bedfellow  last  night? 

Beat.  No,  truly,  not ;  although,  until  last  night, 
I  have  this  twelvemonth  been  her  bedfellow. 

Leon.  Confirm'd,  confirm'd!     O,  that  is  stronger 
made 
Which  was  before  barr'd  up  with  ribs  of  iron! 
Would  the  two  princes  lie,  and  Claudio  lie,  161 
Who  loved  her  so,  that,  speaking  of  her  foul- 
ness, 
Wash'd  it  with  tears  ?     Hence  from  her !  let  her 
die. 

Friar.  Hear  me  a  little; 

For  I  have  only  been  silent  so  long. 

And  given  way  unto  this  course  of  fortune. 

By  noting  of  the  lady :  I  have  mark'd 

A  thousand  blushing  apparitions 

To  start  into  her  face;  a  thousand  innocent 

shames 
In  angel  whiteness  beat  away  those  blushes ;  170 
And  in  her  eye  there  hath  appear'd  a  fire. 
To  burn  the  errors  that  these  princes  hold 
Against  her  maiden  truth.     Call  me  a  fool ; 
Trust  not  my  reading  nor  my  observations, 

XIX— 6  81 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  MUCH  ADO 

Which  with  experimental  seal  doth  warrant 
The  tenor  of  my  book ;  trust  not  my  age, 
My  reverence,  calling,  nor  divinity, 
If  this  sweet  lady  lie  not  guiltless  here 
Under  some  biting  error. 

Leon,  Friar,  it  cannot  be.     180 

Thou  seest  that  all  the  grace  that  she  hath  left 
Is  that  she  will  not  add  to  her  damnation 
A  sin  of  perjury;  she  not  denies  it: 
Why  seek'st  thou,  then,  to  cover  with  excuse 
That  which  appears  in  proper  nakedness? 

Friar.  Lady,  what  man  is  he  you  are  accused  of? 

Hero.  They  know  that   do  accuse  me;   I   know 
none: 
If  I  know  more  of  any  man  alive 
Than  that  which  maiden  modesty  doth  warrant. 
Let  all  my  sins  lack  mercy !     O  my  father,     190 
Prove  you  that  any  man  with  me  conversed 
At  hours  unmeet,  or  that  I  yesternight 
Maintain'd  the  change  of  words  with  any  crea- 
ture. 
Refuse  me,  hate  me,  torture  me  to  death! 

Friar.  There   is   some   strange  misprision   in   the 
princes. 

Bene.  Two  of  them  have  the  very  bent  of  honor; 
And  if  their  wisdoms  be  misled  in  this. 
The  practice  of  it  lives  in  John  the  bastard, 
Whose  spirits  toil  in  frame  of  villanies. 

Leon.  I  know  not.     If  they  speak  but  truth  of 
her,  200 

These  hands  shall  tear  her;  if  they  wrong  her 
honor, 

82 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  iv.  Sc.  i. 

The  proudest  of  them  shall  well  hear  of  it. 

Time  hath  not  yet  so  dried  this  blood  of  mine. 

Nor  age  so  eat  up  my  invention, 

Nor  fortune  made  such  havoc  of  my  means, 

Nor  my  bad  life  reft  me  so  much  of  friends, 

But  they  shall  find,  awaked  in  such  a  kind. 

Both  strength  of  limb  and  policy  of  mind, 

Ability  in  means  and  choice  of  friends, 

To  quit  me  of  them  thoroughly.  210 

Friar,  Pause  awhile, 

And  let  my  counsel  sway  you  in  this  case. 
Your  daughter  here  the  princes  left  for  dead: 
Let  her  awhile  be  secretly  kept  in, 
And  publish  it  that  she  is  dead  indeed; 
Maintain  a  mourning  ostentation, 
And  on  your  family's  old  monument 
Hang  mournful  epitaphs,  and  do  all  rites 
That  appertain  unto  a  burial. 

Leon.  What  shall  become  of  this?  what  will  this 
do?  220 

Friar.  Marry,  this,  well  carried,  shall  on  her  behalf 
Change  slander  to  remorse;  that  is  some  good: 
But  not  for  that  dream  I  on  this  strange  course, 
But  on  this  travail  look  for  greater  birth. 
She  dying,  as  it  must  be  so  maintain'd. 
Upon  the  instant  that  she  was  accused. 
Shall  be  lamented,  pitied,  and  excused 
Of  every  hearer :  for  it  so  falls  out. 
That  what  we  have  we  prize  not  to  the  worth 
Whiles  we  enjoy  it;  but  being  lack'd  and  lost, 
Why,  then  we  rack  the  value,  then  we  find  231 
The  virtue  that  possession  would  not  show  us 

83 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  MUCH  ADO 

Whiles   it   was    ours.     So   will   it    fare   with 

Claudio : 
When  he  shall  hear  she  died  upon  his  words. 
The  idea  of  her  life  shall  sweetly  creep 
Into  his  study  of  imagination; 
And  every  lovely  organ  of  her  life 
Shall  come  apparel'd  in  more  precious  habit, 
More  moving-delicate  and  full  of  life, 
Into  the  eye  and  prospect  of  his  soul,  240 

Than  when   she   hved   indeed;   then   shall   he 

mourn. 
If  ever  love  had  interest  in  his  liver. 
And  wish  he  had  not  so  accused  her, 
No,  though  he  thought  his  accusation  true. 
Let  this  be  so,  and  doubt  not  but  success 
Will  fashion  the  event  in  better  shape 
Than  I  can  lay  it  down  in  likelihood. 
But  if  all  aim  but  this  be  level' d  false. 
The  supposition  of  the  lady's  death 
Will  quench  the  wonder  of  her  infamy:       250 
And  if  it  sort  not  well,  you  may  conceal  her. 
As  best  befits  her  wounded  reputation. 
In  some  reclusive  and  religious  life, 
Out  of  all  eyes,  tongues,  minds,  and  injuries. 

Bene.  Signior  Leonato,  let  the  friar  advise  you: 
And  though  you  know  my  inwardness  and  love 
Is  very  much  unto  the  prince  and  Claudio, 
Yet,  by  mine  honor,  I  will  deal  in  this 
As  secretly  and  justly  as  your  soul 
Should  with  your  body.  260 

Leon.  Being  that  I  flow  in  grief, 

236.  "his  study  of  imagination" ;  his  brooding  fancy. — C.  H.  H. 

84 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  iv.  Sc.  i. 

The  smallest  twine  may  lead  me. 

Friar.  'Tis  well  consented:  presently  away; 

For  to  strange  sores  strangely  they  strain  the 

cure. 
Come,  lady,  die  to  live:  this  wedding-day 
Perhaps  is  but  prolong'd :  have  patience  and  en- 
dure. 

[Exeunt  all  hut  Benedick  and  Beatrice. 

Bene.  Lady  Beatrice,  have  you  wept  all  this 
while? 

Beat.  Yea,  and  I  will  weep  a  while  longer. 

Bene.  I  will  not  desire  that. 

Beat.  You  have  no  reason;  I  do  it  freely.  270 

Bene.  Surely  I  do  believe  your  fair  cousin  is 
wronged. 

Beat.  All,  how  much  might  the  man  deserve  of 
me  that  would  right  her! 

Bene.  Is  there  any  way  to  show  such  friend- 
ship? 

Beat.  A  very  even  way,  but  no  such  friend. 

Bene.  May  a  man  do  it? 

Beat.  It  is  a  man's  office,  but  not  yours. 

Bene.  I  do  love  nothing  in  the  world  so  well  as  280 
you:  is  not  that  strange? 

Beat.  As  strange  as  the  thing  I  know  not. 
It  were  as  possible  for  me  to  say  I  loved 
nothing  so  well  as  you :  but  believe  me  not ; 

262.  "The  smallest  twine  may  lead  me";  this  is  one  of  Shake- 
speare's subtle  observations  oport  life.  Men,  overpowered  with  dis- 
tress, eagerly  listen  to  the  first  offers  of  relief,  close  with  every 
scheme,  and  believe  every  promise.  He  that  has  no  longer  any 
confidence  in  himself  is  glad  to  repose  his  trust  in  any  other  that 
will  undertake  to  guide  him. — H.  N.  H. 

85 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  MUCH  ADO 

and  yet  I  lie  not;  I  confess  nothing,  nor  I 

deny  nothing.     I  am  sorry  for  my  cousin. 
Bene.  By  my  sword,  Beatrice,  thou  lovest  me. 
Beat.  Do  not  swear,  and  eat  it. 
Bene.  I  will  swear  by  it  that  you  love  me;  and 

I  will  make  him  eat  it  that  says  I  love  not  290 

you. 
Beat.  Will  you  not  eat  your  word? 
Bene.  With  no  sauce  that  can  be  devised  to  it. 

I  protest  I  love  thee. 
Beat.  Why,  then,  God  forgive  me ! 
Bene.  What  offense,  sweet  Beatrice? 
Beat.  You  have  stayed  me  in  a  happy  hour:  I 

was  about  to  protest  I  loved  you. 
Bene.  And  do  it  with  all  thy  heart. 
Beat.  I  love  you  with  so  much  of  my  heart,  that  300 

none  is  left  to  protest. 
Bene,  Come,  bid  me  do  anything  for  thee. 
Beat.  Kill  Claudio. 
Bene.  Ha !  not  for  the  wide  world. 
Beat.  You  kill  me  to  deny  it.     Farewell. 
Bene.  Tarry,  sweet  Beatrice. 
Beat.  I  am  gone,  though  I  am  here :  there  is  no 

love  in  you:  nay,  I  pray  you,  let  me  go. 
Bene,  Beatrice, — 

Beat.  In  faith,  I  will  go.  310 

Bene.  We  '11  be  friends  first. 
Beat.  You  dare  easier  be  friends  with  me  than 

fight  with  mine  enemy. 
Bene.  Is  Claudio  thine  enemy? 

307.  "/  am  gone,  though  I  am  here";  that   is,  though  my  person 
stay  with  you,  my  heart  is  gone  from  you. — H.  N.  H. 

86 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  iv.  Sc.  i. 

Beat.  Is  he  not  approved  in  the  height  a  villain, 
that  hath  slandered,  scorned,  dishonored  my 
kinswoman  ?  O  that  I  were  a  man !  What, 
bear  her  in  hand  until  they  come  to  take 
hands ;  and  then,  with  public  accusation,  un- 
covered slander,  unmitigated  rancor, — O  320 
God,  that  I  were  a  man !  I  would  eat  his  heart 
in  the  market-place. 

Bene.  Hear  me,  Beatrice, — 

Beat.  Talk  with  a  man  out  at  a  window!    A 
proper  saying! 

Bene.  Nay,  but,  Beatrice, — 

Beat.  Sweet   Hero!     She   is   wronged,   she   is 
slandered,  she  is  undone. 

Bene.  Beat — 

Beat.  Princes  and  counties !  Surely,  a  prince-  330 
ly  testimony,  a  goodly  count.  Count  Com- 
fect;  a  sweet  gallant,  surely!  O  that  I 
were  a  man  for  his  sake!  or  that  I  had  any 
friend  would  be  a  man  for  my  sake!  But 
manhood  is  melted  into  courtesies,  valor  in- 
to compliment,  and  men  are  only  turned 
into  tongue,  and  trim  ones  too:  he  is  now 
as  valiant  as  Hercules  that  only  tells  a  lie, 
and  swears  it.  I  cannot  be  a  man  with  wish- 
ing, therefore  I  will  die  a  woman  with  griev-  340 
ing. 

Bene.  Tarry,  good  Beatrice.     By  this  hand,  I 
love  thee. 

337.  "and  trim  ones  too";  trim  seems  here  to  signify  apt,  fair 
spoken.  Tongue  used  in  the  singular,  and  trim  ones  in  the  plural, 
is  a  mode  of  construction  not  uncommon  in  Shakespeare. — H.  N.  H. 

87 


Act  IV.  Sc.  ii.  MUCH  ADO 

Beat.  Use  it  for  my  love  some  other  way  than 
swearing  by  it. 

Bene.  Think    you    in    your    soul    the    Count 
Claudio  hath  wronged  Hero  ? 

Beat.  Yea,  as  sure  as  I  have  a  thought  or  a  soul. 

Bene.  Enough,  I  am  engaged ;  I  will  challenge 
him.  I  will  kiss  your  hand,  and  so  I  leave  350 
you.  By  this  hand,  Claudio  shall  render  me 
a  dear  account.  As  you  hear  of  me,  so 
think  of  me.  Go,  comfort  your  cousin:  I 
must  say  she  is  dead :  and  so,  farewell. 

lExeunt. 

Scene  II 

'A  prison. 

Enter  Dogberry,  Verges,  and  Sexton,  in  gowns; 
and  the  Watch,  with  Conrade  and  Borachio. 

Dog.  Is  our  whole  dissembly  appeared? 
Verg.  O,  a  stool  and  a  cushion  for  the  sexton. 
Sex.  Which  be  the  malefactors? 
Dog.  JNIarry,  that  am  I  and  my  partner. 
Verg.  Nay,  that 's  certain ;  we  have  the  exhibi- 
bition  to  examine. 

Scene  ii.  Nearly  all  the  speeches  of  Dogberry  throughout  the 
scene  are  given  to  the  famous  comedian  "Kemp,"  those  of  Verges 
to  "Cowley."  William  Kemp  and  Richard  Cowley  are  among  the 
"principall  actors"  enumerated  in  the  First  Folio.  The  retention 
of  tlie  names  of  the  actors  "supplies  a  measure  of  the  editorial  care 
to  \\hich  the  several  Folios  were  submitted."  Dogberry's  speech  is 
assigned  to  "Andrew,"  probably  a  familiar  ap^iellation  of  Kemp, 
who,  according  to  the  Cambridge  Edition,  often  played  the  part  of 
"Merry  Andrew." — I.  G. 

5.  "We  have  the  exhibition  to  examine."    Verges'  blunder  is  not 

88 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  iv.  Sc.  ii. 

Sex.  But  which  are  the  oiFenders  that  are  to  be 
examined?  let  them  come  before  master  con- 
stable. 

Dog.  Yea,  marry,  let  them  come  before  me.   10 
What  is  your  name,  friend? 

Bora.  Borachio. 

Dog.  Pray,  write  down,  Borachio.  Yours, 
sirrah? 

Con.  I  am  a  gentleman,  sir,  and  my  name  is 
Conrade. 

Dog.  Write  down,  master  gentleman  Conrade. 
Masters,  do  you  serve  God? 

Con.   \^r         '  u 

Bora.  J     ^^'  ^^^'  ^^      P^* 

Dog.  Write  down,  that  they  hope  they  serve  20 
God:  and  write  God  first;  for  God  defend 
but  God  should  go  before  such  villains! 
Masters,  it  is  proved  already  that  you  are 
Httie  better  than  false  knaves;  and  it  will 
go  near  to  be  thought  so  shortly.  How  an- 
swer you  for  yourselves? 

Con.  INIarry,  sir,  we  say  we  are  none. 

Dog.  A  marvelous  witty  fellow,  I  assure  you; 
but  I  will  go  about  with  him.  Come  you 
hither,  sirrah ;  a  word  in  your  ear :  sir,  I  say 
to  you,  it  is  thought  you  are  false  knaves. 

Bora.  Sir,  I  say  to  you  we  are  none. 

Dog,  Well,  stand  aside.  'Fore  God,  they  are 

quite  clear:  possibly  "exhibition"  is  used  in  the  sense  of  "allowance" 
or  permission;  otherwise  he  perhaps  means  "examination  to  exhibit." 
—I.  G. 


89 


30 


Act  IV.  Sc.  ii.  MUCH  ADO 

both  in  a  tale.     Have  you  writ  down,  that 

they  are  none? 
Sex.  Master  Constable,  you  go  not  the  way  to 

examine :  you  must  call  forth  the  watch  that 

are  their  accusers. 
Dog.  Yea,  marry,  that 's  the  ef test  way.     Let 

the  watch  come  forth.     Masters,  I  charge   40 

you,  in  the  prince's  name,  accuse  these  men. 
First  Watch.  This    man    said,    sir,   that   Don 

John,  the  prince's  brother,  was  a  villain. 
Dog.  Write    down,    Prince    John    a    villain. 

Why,  this  is  flat  perjury,  to  call  a  prince's 

brother  villain. 
Bora.  Master  Constable, — 
Dog.  Pray  thee,  fellow,  peace :  I  do  not  like  thy 

look,  I  promise  thee. 
Sex.  What  heard  you  him  say  else  ?  50 

Sec.  Watch.  Marry,   that   he   had   received   a 

thousand  ducats  of  Don  John  for  accusing 

the  Lady  Hero  wrongfully. 
Dog.  Flat  burglary  as  ever  was  committed. 
Verg.  Yea,  by  mass,  that  it  is. 
Sex.  What  else,  fellow? 
First  Watch.  And    that    Count    Claudio    did 

mean,  upon  his  words,  to  disgrace  Hero  be- 
fore the  whole  assembly,  and  not  marry  her. 
Dog.  O  villain!  thou  wilt  be  condemned  into   60 

everlasting  redemption  for  this. 
Sex.  What  else? 
Watch.  This  is  all. 

Sex.  And  this  is  more,  masters,  than  you  can 
deny.    Prince  John  is  this  morning  secretly 
90 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  IV.  Sc.  ii. 

stolen  away;  Hero  was  in  this  manner  ac- 
cused, in  this  very  manner  refused,  and  upon 
the  grief  of  this  suddenly  died.  Master 
constable,  let  these  men  be  bound,  and 
brought  to  Leonato's:  I  will  go  before  and  70 
show  him  their  examination.  \_Exit. 

Dog.  Come,  let  them  be  opinioned. 

Verg,  Let  them  be  in  the  hands — 

Con.  Off,  coxcomb! 

Dog.  God's  my  life,  where 's  the  sexton?  let 
him  write  down,  the  prince's  officer,  cox- 
comb. Come,  bind  them.  Thou  naughty 
varlet ! 

Con.  Away!  you  are  an  ass,  you  are  an  ass. 

Dog.  Dost  thou  not  suspect  my  place?  dost  80 
thou  not  suspect  my  years  ?  O  that  he  were 
here  to  write  me  down  an  ass!  But,  mas- 
ters, remember  that  I  am  an  ass;  though  it 
be  not  written  down,  yet  forget  not  that  I 
am  an  ass.  No,  thou  villain,  thou  art  full 
of  piety,  as  shall  be  proved  upon  thee  by 
good  witness.  I  am  a  wise  fellow;  and, 
which  is  more,  an  officer ;  and,  which  is  more, 
a  householder;  and,  which  is  more,  as  pretty 
a  piece  of  flesh  as  any  is  in  Messina;"  90 
and  one  that  knows  the  law,  go  to;  and  a 
rich  fellow  enough,  go  to ;  and  a  fellow  that 

73.  "Let  them  be  in  the  hands — ";  the  reading  of  the  old  copies  here 
is, — "Let  them  be  in  the  hands  of  coxcomb";  thus  running  two 
speeches  into  one,  as  is  evident  from  Dogberry's  reply.  Tlie  correc- 
tion was  made  by  Theobald,  and  has  been  universally  received.  Of 
course  Verges  was  broken  off  in  the  midst  of  his  speech;  so  that 
there  is  no  telling  how  lie  would  have  ended. — H.  N.  H. 

91 


Act  IV.  Sc.  ii.  MUCH  ADO 

hath  had  losses ;  and  one  that  hath  two  gowns, 
and  every  thing  handsome  about  him. 
Bring  him  awajr.  O  that  I  had  been  writ 
down  an  ass!  [Exeunt, 


93 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  V.  Sc. 


ACT  FIFTH 

Scene  I 

Before  Leonato's  house. 

Enter  Leonato  and  Antonio. 

Ant.  If  you  go  on  thus,  you  will  kill  yourself; 
And  'tis  not  wisdom  thus  to  second  grief 
Against  yourself. 
(  Leon.  I  pray  thee,  cease  thy  counsel, 

I       Which  falls  into  mine  ears  as  profitless 
^      As  water  in  a  sieve :  give  not  me  counsel ; 
Nor  let  no  comforter  delight  mine  ear 
But  such  a  one  whose  wrongs  do  suit  with  mine. 
Bring  me  a  father  that  so  loved  his  child, 
Whose  joy  of  her  is  overwhelm'd  like  mine, 
And  bid  him  speak  of  patience ;  10 

Measure  his  woe  the  length  and  breadth  of  mine. 
And  let  it  answer  every  strain  for  strain. 
As  thus  for  thus,  and  such  a  grief  for  such, 
In  every  lineament,  branch,  shape,  and  form: 
If  such  a  one  will  smile,  and  stroke  his  beard,  ~\ 
Bid  sorrow  wag,  cry  'hem!'  when  he  should  \ 
gi'oan, 

12.  "answer  every  strain  for  strain";  correspond,  pang  for  pang 
(with  my  woe). — C.  H.  H. 

16.  "Bid  sorrow  wag,  cry  'hem'!"  The  Quarto  and  the  first  and 
second  Folios  read,  "And  sorrow  wagge,  crie  hem":  Folio  3,  "And 


Act  V.  Sc.  i.  iMUCH  ADO 

Patch  grief  with  proverbs,  make  misfortune 

drunk 
With  candle-wasters;  bring  him  yet  to  me, 
And  I  of  him  will  gather  patience. 
5  But  there  is  no  such  man :  for,  brother,  men      20 
/Can  counsel  and  speak  comfort  to  that  grief 
I  Which  they  themselves  not  feel ;  but,  tasting  it, 
I  Their  counsel  turns  to  passion,  which  before 
I  Would  give  preceptial  medicine  to  rage, 
/  Fetter  strong  madness  in  a  silken  thread, 
V  Charm  ache  with  air,  and  agony  with  words: 
No,  no;  'tis  all  men's  office  to  speak  patience 
,  To  those  that  wring  under  the  load  of  sorrow, 
\But  no  man's  virtue  nor  sufficiency, 
To  be  so  moral  when  he  shall  endure  30 

/The    like    himself.     Therefore    give    me    no 
)       counsel: 
(My  griefs  cry  louder  than  advertisement. 
Ant.  Therein  do  men  from  children  nothing  differ. 
Leon.  I   pray  thee,   peace.     I   will   be   flesh   and 
blood ; 
For  there  was  never  yet  philosopher 
That  could  endure  the  toothache  patiently, 
However  they  have  writ  the  style  of  gods, 
And  made  a  push  at  chance  and  sufferance. 
Ant.  Yet  bend  not  all  the  harm  upon  yourself; 
Make  those  that  do  offend  you  suffer  too.      40 

hallow,  irag,  cry  hem":  Folio  4,  "And  hollow,  tmr/,  cry  hem."  Many 
emendations  have  been  suggested.  Capell's  "bid  sorrow  vmg,"  is  now 
generally  adopted.  Johnson  proposed  "Cry,  sorrow  wag!  and  hem." 
("Sorrow  wag,"  like  "care  away,"  was  probably  a  proverbial  phrase.) 
One  other  suggestion  is  perhaps  noteworthy: — "And,  sorry  wag,  cry 
'hem.'"— I.  G. 

94 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  V.  Sc.  i. 

Ijeon.  There  thou  speak'st  reason :  nay,  I  will  do  so. 

My  soul  doth  tell  me  Hero  is  belied; 

And   that   shall   Claudio   know;   so   shall   the 
prince, 

And  all  of  them  that  thus  dishonor  her. 
Ant.  Here  comes  the  prince  and  Claudio  hastily. 

Enter  Don  Pedro  and  Claudio. 

D.  Pedro.  Good  den,  good  den. 

Claud.  Good  day  to  both  of  you. 

Leon,  Hear  you,  my  lords, — 

D.  Pedro.  We  have  some  haste,  I^eonato. 

Leon.  Some  haste,  my  lord !  well,  fare  you  well,  my 
lord: 
Are  you  so  hasty  now?  well,  all  is  one. 

D.  Pedro.  Nay,  do  not  quarrel  with  us,  good  old 
man.  50 

Ant.  If  he  could  right  himself  with  quarreling. 
Some  of  us  would  lie  low. 

Claud.  Who  wrongs  him: 

Leon.  Marry,  thou  dost  wrong  me,  thou  dissem- 
bler, thou: — 
Nay,  never  lay  thy  hand  upon  thy  sword ; 
I  fear  thee  not. 

Claud.  Marry,  beshrew  my  hand, 

If  it  should  give  your  age  such  cause  of  fear: 
In  faith,  my  hand  meant  nothing  to  my  sword. 

Leon.  Tush,  tush,  man;  never  fleer  and  jest  at  me: 
I  speak  not  like  a  dotard  nor  a  fool. 
As,  under  privilege  of  age,  to  brag  60 

What  I  have  done  being  young,  or  what  would 
do, 

95 


Act  V.  Sc.  i.  MUCH  ADO 

Were  I  not  old.     Know,  Claudio,  to  thy  head, 

Thou  hast  so  wrong'd  mine  innocent  child  and 
me. 

That  I  am  forced  to  lay  my  reverence  by, 

And,  with  gray  hairs  and  bruise  of  many  days. 

Do  challenge  thee  to  trial  of  a  man. 

I  say  thou  hast  belied  mine  innocent  child; 

Thy  slander  hath  gone  through  and  through  her 
heart. 

And  she  lies  buried  with  her  ancestors; 

O,  in  a  tomb  where  never  scandal  slept,         TO 

Save  this  of  hers,  framed  by  thy  villainy ! 
Claud.  My  villainy? 

Leon.  Thine,  Claudio;  thine,  I  say. 

D.  Pedro.  You  say  not  right,  old  man. 
Leon.  My  lord,  my  lord, 

I  '11  prove  it  on  his  body,  if  he  dare, 

Despite  his  nice  fence  and  his  active  practice, 

His  May  of  youth  and  bloom  of  lustihood. 
Claud.  Away  I     I  will  not  have  to  do  with  you. 
Leon.  Canst  thou  so  daiF  me?     Thou  hast  kill'd 
my  child. 

If  thou  kill'st  me,  boy,  thou  shalt  kill  a  man. 
Ant.  He  shall  kill  two  of  us,  and  men  indeed:      80 

But  that 's  no  matter ;  let  him  kill  one  first ; 

Win  me  and  wear  me;  let  him  answer  me. 

Come,  follow  me,  boy;  come,  sir  boy,  come,  fol- 
low me: 

Sir  boy,  I  '11  whip  you  from  your  f oining  fence ; 

Nay,  as  I  am  a  gentleman,  I  will. 
Leon.  Brother, — 

65.  "bruise  of  wany  days";  furrows  of  age. — C.  H.  H 

96 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  V.  Sc.  i. 

Ant.  Content  yourself.     God  knows  I  loved  my 
niece ; 
And  she  is  dead,  slander'd  to  death  by  villains, 
That  dare  as  well  answer  a  man  indeed 
As  I  dare  take  a  serpent  by  the  tongue:  90 

Boys,  apes,  braggarts,  Jacks,  milksops  1 
Leon.  Brother  Antony, — 

Ant.  Hold  you   content.    What,   man!   I   know 
them,  yea, 
And   what   they  weigh,   even   to  the   utmost 

scruple, — 
Scambling,  out-facing,  fashion-monging  boys, 
iThat  lie,  and  cog,  and  flout,  deprave,  and  slan- 

Go  aritiquely,  and  show  outward  hideousness. 
And  speak  off  half  a  dozen  dangerous  words, 
How  they  might  hurt  their  enemies,  if  they 

durst ; 
And  this  is  all. 

Leon.  But,  brother  Antony, — 

Ant.  Come, 'tis  no  matter :      100 

Do  not  you  meddle;  let  me  deal  in  this. 

D.  Pedro.  Gentlemen  both,  we  will  not  wake  your 
patience. 
My  heart  is  sorry  for  your  daughter's  death : 
But,  on  my  honor,  she  was  charged  with  noth- 
ing 
But  what  was  true,  and  very  full  of  proof. 

Leon.  My  lord,  my  lord, — 

D.  Pedro.  I  will  not  hear  you. 

102.  "wake  your  patience";  that  is,   rouse,  stir  up,  convert  your 
patience  into  anger,  by  remaining  longer  in  your  presence. — H.  N.  H. 
XIX— 7  97 


Act  V.  Sc.  i.  MUCH  ADO 

Leon.  No?     Come,  brother;  away!  I  will  be  heard. 
Ant.  And  shall,  or  some  of  us  will  smart  for  it. 

[Exeunt  Leonato  and  Antonio. 
D.  Pedro.  See,  see ;  here  comes  the  man  we  went  to 
seek.  110 

Enter  Benedick. 
Claud.  Now,  signior,  what  news? 
Bene.  Good  day,  my  lord. 
D.  Pedro.  Welcome,  signior:  you  are  almost 

come  to  part  almost  a  fray. 
Claud.  We  had  like  to  have  had  our  two  noses 

snapped  off  with  two  old  men  without  teeth. 
Z).  Pedro.  Leonato    and    his    brother.     What 

thinkest  thou  ?     Had  we  fought,  I  doubt  we 

should  have  been  too  young  for  them. 
Bene.  In  a  false  quarrel  there  is  no  true  valor.  120 

I  came  to  seek  you  both. 
Claud.  We  have  been  up  and  down  to  seek  thee ; 

for    we    are    high-proof    melancholy,    and 

would  fain  have  it  beaten  away.     Wilt  thou 

use  thy  wit? 
Bene.  It  is  in  my  scabbard:  shall  I  draw  it? 
D.  Pedro.  Dost  thou  wear  thy  wit  by  thy  side? 
Claud.  Never  any  did  so,  though  very  many 

have  been  beside  their  wit.     I  will  bid  thee 

draw,  as  we  do  the  minstrels ;  draw,  to  pleas- 130 

ure  us. 
D.  Pedro.  As  I  am  an  honest  man,  he  looks 

pale.     Ai't  thou  sick,  or  angry  ? 
Claud.  What,    courage,    man!     What   though 

care  killed  a  cat,  thou  hast  mettle  enough  in 

thee  to  kill  care. 

C8 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  v.  Sc.  i. 

Bene.  Sir,  I  shall  meet  your  wit  in  the  career, 
an  you  charge  it  against  me.  I  pray  you 
choose  another  subject.  l^O 

Claud.  Nay,  then,  give  him  another  staff:  this 
last  was  broke  cross. 

D.  Pedro.  By  this  light,  he  changes  more  and 
more:     I  think  he  be  angry  indeed. 

Claud.  If  he  be,  he  knows  how  to  turn  his 
girdle. 

Bene.  Shall  I  speak  a  word  in  your  ear? 

Claud.  God  bless  me  from  a  challenge! 

Bene.  [Aside  to  Claudio~\  You  are  a  villain;  1 150 
jest  not:  I  will  make  it  good  how  you  dare, 
with  what  you  dare,  and  when  you  dare. 
Do  me  right,  or  I  will  protest  your  coward- 
ice. You  have  killed  a  sweet  lady,  and  her 
death  shall  fall  heavy  on  you.  Let  me  hear 
from  you. 

Claud.  Well,  I  will  meet  you,  so  I  may  have 
good  cheer. 

D.  Pedro.  What,  a  feast,  a  feast? 

Claud.  V  faith,  I  thank  him;  he  hath  bid  me  to  K^O 
a  calf 's-head  and  a  capon ;  the  which  if  I  do 
not  carve  most  curiously,  say  my  knife  's 
naught.     Shall  I  not  find  a  woodcock  too? 

Bene.  Sir,  your  wit  ambles  well;  it  goes  easily. 

D.  Pedro.  I  '11  tell  thee  how  Beatrice  praised 
thy  wit  the  other  day.  I  said,  thou  hadst  a 
fine  wit:  'True,'  said  she,  'a  fine  little  one.' 
'No,'  said  I,  'a  great  wit:'  'Right,'  says  she,  'a 
great  gross  one.'  'Nay,'  said  I,  'a  good  wit:' 
'Just,'  said  she,  'it  hurts  nobody.'  'Nay,'  said  1"0 
99 


Act  V.  Sc.  i.  MUCH  ADO 

I,  'the  gentleman  is  wise:*  'Certain,'  said  she, 
*a  wise  gentleman.'  'Nay,'  said  I,  'he  hath 
the  tongues:'  'That  I  believe,'  said  she,  'for 
he  swore  a  thing  to  me  on  Monday  night, 
which  he  foreswore  on  Tuesday  morning: 
there 's  a  double  tongue ;  there 's  two 
tongues.'  Thus  did  she,  an  hour  together, 
trans-shape  thy  particular  virtues:  yet  at 
last  she  concluded  with  a  sigh,  thou  wast  the 
properest  man  in  Italy.  180 

Claud.  For  the  which  she  wept  heartily,  and  said 
she  cared  not. 

D.  Pedro.  Yea,  that  she  did;  but  yet,  for  all 
that,  an  if  she  did  not  hate  him  deadly,  she 
would  love  him  dearly:  the  old  man's  daugh- 
ter told  us  all. 

Claud.  All,  all;  and,  moreover,  God  saw  him 
when  he  was  hid  in  the  garden. 

D.  Pedro.  But  when  shall  we  set  the  savage 
bull's  horns  on  the  sensible  Benedick's  head?  190 

Claud.  Yea,  and  text  underneath,  'Here  dwells 
Benedick  the  married  man'? 

Bene.  Fare  you  well,  boy:  you  know  my  mind. 
I  will  leave  you  now  to  your  gossip -like 
humor:  you  break  jests  as  braggarts  do  their 
blades,  which,  God  be  thanked,  hurt  not. 
My  lord,  for  your  many  courtesies  I  thank 

172.  "wise  gentleman"  was  probably  used  ironically  for  a  silly  fel- 
low; as  we  still  say  a  wise-acre. — H.  N.  H. 

192.  "Benedick  the  married  man";  cf.  i.  1.  284.— C.  H.  H. 

195.  "break  jests  as  braggarts  do  their  blades";  fling  them  reck- 
lessly out.  The  braggarts  "break"  their  blades  in  the  figurative 
sense  suggested  by  the  "breaking"  of  jests. — C.  H.  H. 

100 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  V.  Sc.  i. 

you:    I    must    discontinue   your   company: 
your  brother  the  bastard  is  fled  from  Mes-    ' 
sina :  you  have  among  you  killed  a  sweet  and  200 
innocent  lady.     For  my  Lord  Lackbeard 
there,  he  and  I  shall  meet :  and  till  then  peace 
be  with  him.  [^Exit, 

D.  Pedro.  He  is  in  earnest. 

Claud.  In  most  profound  earnest;  and,  I  'U 
warrant  you,  for  the  love  of  Beatrice. 

D.  Pedro.  And  hath  challenged  thee. 

Claud.  Most  sincerely. 

D.  Pedro.  What  a  pretty  thing  man  is  when 
he  goes  in  his  doublet  and  hose,  and  leaves  210 
off  his  witl 

Claud.  He  is  then  a  giant  to  an  ape :  but  then  is 
an  ape  a  doctor  to  such  a  man. 

D.  Pedro.  But,  soft  you,  let  me  be:  pluck  up, 
my  heart,  and  be  sad.  Did  he  not  say,  my 
brother  was  fled? 

Enter  Dogberry,  Verges,  and  the  Watch,  with 
Conrade  and  Borachio. 

Dog.  Come,  you,  sir:  if  justice  cannot  tame 
you,  she  shall  ne'er  weigh  more  reasons  in 
her  balance :  nay,  an  you  be  a  cursing  hypo- 
crite once,  you  must  be  looked  to.  220 

D.  Pedro.  How  now?  two  of  my  brother's  men 
bound!     Borachio  onel 

Claud.  Hearken  after  their  offense,  my  lord. 

D.  Pedro.  Officers,  what  offense  have  these 
men  done? 

Dog.  Marry,  sir,  they  have  committed  false  re- 

101 


Act  V.  Sc.  i.  MUCH  ADO 

port;  moreover,  they  have  si:)oken  untruths; 
secondarily,   they   are    slanders;    sixth   and 
lastly,  they  have  belied  a  lady ;  thirdly,  they 
have  verified  unjust  things ;  and,  to  conclude,  230 
they  are  lying  knaves. 

D.  Pedro.  First,  I  ask  thee  what  they  have 
done ;  thirdly,  I  ask  thee  what 's  their  of- 
fense; sixth  and  lastly,  why  they  are  com- 
mitted; and,  to  conclude,  what  you  lay  to 
their  charge. 

Claud.  Rightly  reasoned,  and  in  his  own  di- 
vision ;  and,  by  my  troth,  there  's  one  mean- 
ing well  suited. 

D.  Pedro.  Who  have  you  offended,  masters,  240 
that  you  are  thus  bound  to  your  answer?  this 
learned  constable  is  too  cunning  to  be  under- 
stood ;  what 's  your  offense  ? 

Bora.  Sweet  prince,  let  me  go  no  farther  to  mine 
answer:  do  you  hear  me,  and  let  this  count 
kill  me.  I  have  deceived  even  your  very 
eyes :  what  your  wisdoms  could  not  discover, 
these  shallow  fools  have  brought  to  light; 
who,  in  the  night,  overheard  me  confessing 
to  this  man,  how  Don  John  your  brother  in-  250 
censed  me  to  slander  the  Lady  Hero;  how 
you  were  brought  into  the  orchard,  and  saw 
me  court  Margaret  in  Hero's  garments :  how 
you  disgraced  her,  when  you  should  marry 
her:  my  villainy  they  have  upon  record; 

239.  "one  meaning  well  suited";  that  is,  one  meaning  put  into  many 
different  dresses;  the  Prince  having  asked  the  same  question  in  four 
modes  of  speech. — H.  N.  H. 

Sil.  "hound  to  your  answer";  called  to  account. — C.  H.  H. 

102 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  V.  Sc.  i. 

which  I  had  rather  seal  with  my  death  than 
repeat  over  to  my  shame.  The  lady  is  dead 
upon  mine  and  my  master's  false  accusation ; 
and,  briefly,  I  desire  nothing  but  the  reward 
of  a  villain.  260 

D,  Pedro.  Runs  not  this  speech  like  iron 
through  your  blood? 

Claud.  I  have  drunk  poison  whiles  he  utter'd  it. 

D.  Pedro.  But  did  my  brother  set  thee  on  to 
this? 

Bora.  Yea,  and  paid  me  richly  for  the  practice 
of  it. 

Z).  Pedro.  He  is  composed  and  framed  of  treach- 
ery: 
And  fled  he  is  upon  this  villainy. 

Claud.  Sweet    Hero!   now    thy    image    doth    ap- 
pear 270 
In  the  rare  semblance  that  I  loved  it  first. 

Dog.  Come,  bring  away  the  plaintiff's:  by  this 
time  our  sexton  hath  reformed  Signior 
liconato  of  the  matter :  and,  masters,  do  not 
forget  to  specify,  when  time  and  place  shall 
serve,  that  I  am  an  ass. 

Verg\  Here,  here  comes  master  Signior  Leon- 
ato,  and  the  sexton  too. 

Re-enter  Leonato  and  Antonio j,  with  the  Sexton. 

Leon.  Which  is  the  villain?  let  me  see  his  eyes, 

27:2.  "plainti^s";  a  double  blunder;  Borachio  and  Conrade  being 
not  "defendants"  (in  a  civil  action)  but  prisoners  (in  a  criminal 
one).— C.  H.  H. 

275.  "specify" ;  Dogberry  can  only  have  blundered  into  this  correct 
use  of  so  technical  a  word;  he  meant  to  say  "testify." — C.  H.  H. 

103 


Act  V.  Sc.  i.  MUCH  ADO 

That,  when  I  note  another  man  Hke  him,         280 
I  may  avoid  him:  which  of  these  is  he? 

Bora.  If  you  would  know  your  wronger,  look  on 
me. 

Leon.  Art  thou  the  slave  that  with  thy  breath  hast 
kill'd 
Mine  innocent  child? 

Bora.  Yea,  even  I  alone. 

Leon.  No,  not  so,  villain;  thou  beliest  thyself: 
Here  stand  a  pair  of  honorable  men; 
A  third  is  fled,  that  had  a  hand  in  it. 
I  thank  you,  princes,  for  my  daughter's  death: 
Record  it  with  your  high  and  worthy  deeds :  290 
'Twas  bravely  done,  if  you  bethink  you  of  it. 

Claud.  I  know  not  how  to  pray  your  patience ; 
Yet  I  must  speak.     Choose  your  revenge  your- 
self; 
Impose  me  to  what  penance  your  invention 
Can  lay  upon  my  sin :  yet  sinn'd  I  not 
But  in  mistaking. 

D.  Pedro.  By  my  soul,  nor  I : 

And  yet,  to  satisfy  this  good  old  man, 
I  would  bend  under  any  heavy  weight 
That  he  '11  enjoin  me  to.  300 

Leon.  I  cannot  bid  you  bid  my  daughter  live; 
That  were  impossible :  but,  I  pray  you  both, 
Possess  the  people  in  Messina  here 
How  innocent  she  died;  and  if  your  love 
Can  labor  aught  in  sad  invention, 
Hang  her  an  epitaph  upon  her  tomb, 

306.  "an  epitafh  upon  her   tomb";  it  was  the  custom   to   attach, 
upon  or  near  the  tombs  of  celebrated  persons,  a  written  inscription, 

104 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  V.  Sc.  i. 

And  sing  it  to  her  bones,  sing  it  to-night : 
To-morrow  morning  come  you  to  my  house; 
And  since  you  could  not  be  my  son-in-law, 
Be  yet  my  nephew :  my  brother  hath  a  daughter, 
Almost  the  copy  of  my  child  that 's  dead,        311 
And  she  alone  is  heir  to  both  of  us : 
Give  her  the  right  you  should  have  given  her 

cousin. 
And  so  dies  my  revenge. 

Claud,  O  noble  sir, 

Your  over-kindness  doth  wring  tears  from  me! 
I  do  embrace  your  offer;  and  dispose 
For  henceforth  of  poor  Claudio. 

Leon.  To-morrow,  then,  I  will  expect  your  com- 
ing; 319 
To-night  I  take  my  leave.     This  naughty  man 
Shall  face  to  face  be  brought  to  Margaret, 
Who  I  believe  was  pack'd  in  all  this  wrong, 
Hired  to  it  by  your  brother. 

Bora.  No,  by  my  soul,  she  was  not ; 

Nor  knew  not  what  she  did  when  she  spoke  to 

me; 
But  always  hath  been  just  and  virtuous 
In  any  thing  that  I  do  know  by  her. 

Dog.  Moreover,  sir,  which  indeed  is  not  under 
white  and  black,  this  plaintiff  here,  the  of- 
fender, did  call  me  ass :  I  beseech  you,  let  it  330 

either  in  prose  or  verse,  generally  in  praise  of  the  deceased. — 
H.  N.  H. 

311.  "my  child  that's  dead";  it  would  seem  that  Antonio's  son, 
mentioned  in  Act  i.  sc.  2,  must  have  died  since  the  play  began.— 
H.  N.  H. 

3:20.  "naughty";  wicked.— C.  H.  H. 

105 


Act  V.  Sc.  i.  MUCH  ADO 

be  remembered  in  his  punishment.  And 
also,  the  watch  heard  them  talk  of  one  De- 
formed: they  say  he  wears  a  key  in  his  ear, 
and  a  lock  hanging  by  it;  and  borrows 
money  in  God's  name,  the  which  he  hath  used 
so  long  and  never  paid,  that  now  men  grow 
hard-hearted,  and  will  lend  nothing  for 
God's  sake:  pray  you,  examine  him  upon 
that  point. 

Leon.  I  thank  thee  for  thy  care  and  honest  340 
jDains. 

Dog.  Your  worship  speaks  like  a  most  thank- 
ful and  reverend  youth;  and  I  praise  God 
for  you. 

Leon.  There  's  for  thy  pains. 

Dog.  God  Save  the  foundation ! 

Leon.  Go,  I  discharge  thee  of  thy  prisoner, 
and  I  thank  thee. 

Dog.  I  leave  an  arrant  knave  with  your  wor- 
ship ;  which  I  beseech  your  worship  to  cor-  350 
rect  yourself,  for  the  example  of  others. 
God  keep  your  worship!  I  wish  your  wor- 
ship well;  God  restore  you  to  health!  I 
humbly  give  you  leave  to  depart;  and  if  a 
merry  meeting  may  be  wished,  God  prohibit 
it!     Come,  neighbor. 

[Ea^eunt  Dogberry  and  Verges. 

Leon.  Until  to-morrow  morning,  lords,  farewell. 

Ant.  Farewell,  my  lords:  we  look  for  you  to- 
morrow. 

D.  Pedro.  We  will  not  fail.  360 

Claud.  To-night  I  '11  mourn  with  Hero. 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  V.  Sc.  ii. 

Leon.   [J'o  the  Watch]     Bring  you  these  fellows 
on. 
We  '11  talk  with  Margaret,  -^i* 

How  her  acquaintance  grew  with  this  lewd  fel- 
low, [Exeunt,  severally. 


Scene  II 

Leonato's  garden. 
Enter  Benedick  and  Margaret,  meeting. 

Bene.  Pray  thee,  sweet  Mistress  Margaret,  de- 
serve well  at  my  hands  by  helping  me  to  the 
speech  of  Beatrice. 

Marg.  Will  you,  then,  write  me  a  sonnet  in 
praise  of  my  beauty  ? 

Bene.  In  so  high  a  style,  Margaret,  that  no  man 
living  shall  come  over  it ;  for,  in  most  comely 
truth,  thou  deservest  it. 

Marg.  To  have  no  man  come  over  me!  why, 
shall  I  always  keep  below  stairs?  10 

Bene.  Thy  wit  is  as  quick  as  the  greyhqund's 
mouth;  it  catches.  >  •{'  i-^n 

Marg.  And  yours  as  blunt  as  the  fencer's  foils, 
which  hit,  but  hurt  not. 

Bene.  A  most  manly  wit,  Margaret;  it  will  not 
hurt  a  woman:  and  so,  I  pray  thee,  call  Be- 
atrice: I  give  thee  the  bucklers. 

Marg.  Give  us  the  swords ;  we  have  bucklers  of 
our  own. 

Beiie.  If  you  use  them,  Margaret,  you  must   20 

107 


Act  V.  Sc.  ii.  MUCH  ADO 

put  in  the  pikes  with  a  vice;  and  they  are 

dangerous  weapons  for  maids. 
Marg.  Well,  I  will  call  Beatrice  to  you,  who  I 

think  hath  legs. 
Bene,  And  therefore  will  come.      [Eant  Margaret 

ISingsl         The  god  of  love. 
That  sits  above, 
And  knows  me,  and  knows  me, 
How  pitiful  I  deserve, — 

I  mean  in  singing;  but  in  loving,  Leander  30 
the  good  swimmer,  Troilus  the  first  employer 
of  pandars,  and  a  whole  bookful  of  these 
quondam  carpet-mongers,  whose  names  yet 
run  smoothly  in  the  even  road  of  a  blank 
verse,  why,  they  were  never  so  truly  turned 
over  and  over  as  my  poor  self  in  love. 
Marry,  I  cannot  show  it  in  rhyme;  I  have 
tried:  I  can  find  out  no  rhyme  to  'lady'  but 
'baby,'  an  innocent  rhyme ;  for  'scorn,'  'horn,' 
a  hard  rhyme;  for  'school,'  'fool,'  a  babbling  40 
rhyme ;  very  ominous  endings :  no,  I  was  not 
born  under  a  rhyming  planet,  nor  I  cannot 
woo  in  festival  terms. 

Enter  Beatrice, 

Sweet  Beatrice,  wouldst  thou  come  when  I 

called  thee? 
Beat.  Yea,  signior,  and  depart  when  you  bid  me. 
Bene,  O,  stay  but  till  then  1 
Beat,  'Then'  is  spoken ;  fare  you  well  now :  and 

108 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  v.  Sc.  ii. 

yet,  ere  I  go,  let  me  go  with  that  I  came; 
which  is,  with  knowing  what  hath  passed  be-   50 
tween  you  and  Claudio. 

Bene,  Only  foul  words;  and  thereupon  I  will 
kiss  thee. 

Beat.  Foul  words  is  but  foul  wind,  and  foul 
wind  is  but  foul  breath,  and  foul  breath  is 
noisome ;  therefore  I  will  depart  unkissed. 

Bene.  Thou  hast  frighted  the  word  out  of  his 
right  sense,  so  forcible  is  thy  wit.  But  I 
must  tell  thee  plainly,  Claudio  undergoes 
my  challenge ;  and  either  I  must  shortly  hear  60 
from  him,  or  I  will  subscribe  him  a  coward. 
And,  I  pray  thee  now,  tell  me  for  which  of 
my  bad  parts  didst  thou  first  fall  in  love  with 
me? 

Beat.  For  them  all  together;  which  maintained 
so  politic  a  state  of  evil,  that  they  will  not 
admit  any  good  part  to  intermingle  with 
them.  But  for  which  of  my  good  parts  did 
you  first  suffer  love  for  me? 

Bene.  SuflTer  love, — a  good  epithet!     I  do  suf-  70 
fer  love  indeed,  for  I  love  thee  against  my 
will. 

Beat.  In  spite  of  your  heart,  I  think ;  alas,  poor 
heart!  If  you  spite  it  for  my  sake,  I  will 
spite  it  for  yours ;  for  I  will  never  love  that 
which  my  friend  hates. 

Bene.  Thou  and  I  are  too  wise  to  woo  peace- 
ably. 

Beat.  It  appears  not  in  this  confession :  there  's 

49.  "came";  i.  e.  came  for.— C.  H.  H. 
109 


Act  V.  Sc.  ii.  MUCH  ADO 

not  one  M'ise  man  among  twenty  that  will   80 
praise  himself. 

Bene.  An  old,  an  old  instance,  Beatrice,  that 
lived  in  the  time  of  good  neighbors.  If  a 
man  do  not  erect  in  this  age  his  own  tomb 
ere  he  dies,  he  shall  live  no  longer  in  monu- 
ment than  the  bell  rings  and  the  widow 
weeps. 

Beat.  And  how  long  is  that,  think  you? 

Bene.  Question:  why,  an  hour  in  clamor,  and  a 
quarter  in  rheum:  therefore  it  is  most  expe-  90 
dient  for  the  wise,  if  Don  Worm,  his  con- 
science, find  no  impediment  to  the  con- 
trary, to  be  the  trumpet  of  his  own  virtues, 
as  I  am  to  myself.  So  much  for  praising 
myself,  who,  I  myself  will  bear  witness,  is 
praiseworthy:  and  now  tell  me,  how  doth 
your  cousin? 

Beat  Very  ill. 

Bene.  And  how  do  you? 

Beat.  Very  ill  too.  100 

Bene.  Serve  God,  love  me,  and  mend.  There 
will  I  leave  you  too,  for  here  comes  one  in 
haste. 

Enter  Ursula. 

U?'S.  ISIadam,  you  must  come  to  your  uncle. 
Yonder's  old  coil  at  home:  it  is  proved  my 
Lady  Hero  hath  been  falsely  accused,  the 
prince  and  Claudio  mightily  albused;   and 

S2.  "an  old  instance";  an  argument  derived  from  the  good  old 
days,  and  Mhich  had  force  (''lived")  when  men  might  trust  their 
neighbors  to  praise  them. — C.  H.  H. 

110 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  V.  Sc.  iii. 

Don  Jolin  is  tlie  author  of  all,  who  is  fled  and 

gone.     Will  you  come  presently? 
Beat.  Will  you  go  hear  this  news,  signior?  110 

Bene.  I  will  live  in  thy  heart,  die  in  thy  lap,  and 

be  buried  in  thy  eyes;  and  moreover  I  will 

go  with  thee  to  thy  uncle's.  [Exeunt, 


Scene  III 

A  church. 

Enter  Don  Pedro,  Claudio,  and  three  or  four  with 

tapers. 

Claud.  Is  this  the  monument  of  Leonato? 

A  Lord.  It  is,  my  lord. 

Claud.  [Reading  out  of  a  scroll] 

Done  to  death  by  slanderous  tongues 
Was  the  Hero  that  here  lies : 

Death,  in  guerdon  of  her  wrongs. 

Gives  her  fame  which  never  dies. 

So  the  life  that  died  with  shame 

Lives  in  death  with  glorious  fame. 

Hang  thou  there  upon  the  tomb, 
Praising  her  when  I  am  dumb.  10 

Now,  music,  sound,  and  sing  your  solemn  hymn. 

112.  "buried  in  thy  eyes";  Mr.  Collier  says, — "The  Rev.  Mr.  Barry 

suggests  to  me,   that  the   words  heart  and   eyes  have  in  some   way 
changed  places  in  the  old  copies." — H.  N.  H. 

3.  "done  to  death";  this  phrase  occurs  frequently  in  writers  of 
Shakespeare's  time:  it  appears  to  be  derived  from  the  French 
phrase,  faire  mottrir. — H.  N.  H. 

Ill 


Act  V.  sc.  iii.  MUCH  ADO 

Song. 

Pardon,  goddess  of  the  night, 
Those  ^hat  slew  thy  virgin  knight; 
For  the  which,  with  songs  of  woe. 
Round  about  her  tomb  they  go. 

Midnight,  assist  our  moan; 

Help  us  to  sigh  and  groan. 
Heavily,  heavily: 

Graves,  yawn,  and  yield  your  dead. 

Till  death  be  uttered,  20 

Heavily,  heavily. 

Claud.  Now,  unto  thy  bones  good  night  I 

Yearly  will  I  do  this  rite. 
D.  Pedro,  Good     morrow,     masters;     put    your 
torches  out: 
The  wolves  have  prey*d;  and  look,  the  gen- 
tle day, 

13.  "knight"  was  a  common  poetical  appellation  of  virgins  in 
Shakespeare's  time;  probably  in  allusion  to  their  being  the  votarists 
of  Diana,  whose  chosen  pastime  was  in  knightly  sports.  Thus,  in 
Fletcher's  Two  Noble  Kinsmen,  Act  v.  sc.  1: 

"OI  sacred,  shadowy,  cold,  and  constant  queen, 
Abandoner  of  revels,  mute,  contemplative, 
Sweet,  solitary,  white  as  chaste,  and  pure 
As  wind-fann'd  snow,  who  to  thy  female  knights 
AUow'st  no  more  blood  than  will  make  a  blush. 
Which  is  their  order's  robe." — H.  N.  H. 

20,  21.  "Heavily,  heavily";  so  reads  the  Quarto;  the  Folios  "Heav- 
enly, heavenly,"  adopted  by  many  editors.  The  same  error,  how- 
ever, of  "heavenly"  for  "heavily"  occurs  in  the  Folio  reading  of 
Hamlet  II.  ii.  309. 

"The  slayers  of  the  virgin  knight  are  performing  a  solemn 
requiem  on  the  body  of  Hero,  and  they  invoke  Midnight  and  the 
shades  of  the  dead  to  assist,  until  her  death  be  uttered,  that  is,  pro- 
claimed, published,  sorrowfully,  sorrowfully"   (Halliwell). — I.  G. 

112 


ABOtTT  NOTHING  Act  v.  Sc.  iv. 

Before  the  wheels  of  Phoebus,  round  about 

Dapples  the  drowsy  east  with  spots  of  gray. 

Thanks  to  you  all,  and  leave  us :  fare  you  well. 

Claud.  Good   morrow,   master;?:   each  his   several 

way. 
D.  Pedro,  Come,  let  us  hence,  and  put  on  other 
weeds ;  30 

And  then  to  Leonato's  we  will  go. 
Claud.  And  Hymen  now  with  luckier  issue  speed's 
Than  this  for  whom  we  render'd  up  this  woe. 

lEa^eunU 

Scene  IV 

A  room  in  Leonato's  house. 

Enter  Leonato,  Antonio,  Benedick,  Beatrice,  Mar- 
garet, Ursula,  Friar  Francis,  and  Hero, 

Friar.  Did  I  not  tell  you  she  was  innocent? 

Leon.  So  are  the  prince  and  Claudio,  who  accused 
her 
Upon  the  error  that  you  heard  debated : 
But  Margaret  was  in  some  fault  for  this. 
Although  against  her  will,  as  it  appears 
In  the  true  course  of  all  the  question. 

Ant.  Well,  I  am  glad  that  all  things  sort  so  well. 

Bene.  And  so  am  I,  being  else  by  faith  enforced 
To  call  young  Claudio  to  a  reckoning  for  it. 

Leon.  Well,  daughter,  and  you  gentlewomen  all. 
Withdraw  into  a  chamber  by  yourselves,  11 

And  when  I  send  for  you,  come  hither  mask'd. 

[E.^eunf  Ladies. 

XIX-8  113 


Act  V.  Sc.  iv.  MUCH  ADO 

The  prince  and  Claudio  promised  by  this  hour 
To  visit  me.     You  know  your  office,  brother : 
You  must  be  father  to  your  brother's  daughter. 
And  give  her  to*  young  Claudio. 

Ant.  Which  I  will  do  with  confirm'd  countenance. 

Bene,  Friar,  I  must  entreat  your  pains,  I  think. 

Friar,  To  do  what,  signior? 

Bene.  To  bind  me,  or  undo  me;  one  of  them.        20 
Signior  Leonato,  truth  it  is,  good  signior, 
Your  niece  regards  me  with  an  eye  of  favor. 

Leon.  That  eye  my  daughter  lent  her:  'tis  most 
true. 

Bene.  And  I  do  with  an  eye  of  love  requite  her. 

Leon.  The  sight  whereof  I  think  you  had  from  me. 
From  Claudio,  and  the  prince :  but  what 's  your 
will? 

Bene.  Your  answer,  sir,  is  enigmatical: 

But,  for  my  will,  my  will  is,  your  good  will 
May  stand  with  ours,  this  day  to  be  conjoin'd 
In  the  state  of  honorable  marriage :  30 

In  which,  good  friar,  I  shall  desire  your  help. 

Leon.  My  heart  is  with  your  liking. 

Friar.  And  my  help. 

Here  comes  the  prince  and  Claudio. 

Enter  Don  Pedro  and  Claudio,  and  two  or  three 

others. 

D.  Pedro.  Good  morrow  to  this  fair  assembly. 
Leon.  Good     morrow,     prince;     good     morrow, 
Claudio : 
We  here  attend  you.     Are  you  yet  determined 
To-day  to  marry  with  my  brother's  daughter? 
Ill 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  V.  Sc.  iv. 

Claud.  I  '11  hold  my  mind,  were  she  an  Ethiope. 
Leon.  Call   her    forth,    brother;   here's   the   friar 
ready.  [Exit  Antonio. 

D.  Pedro.  Good  morrow,  Benedick.    Why,  what 's 
the  matter.  40 

That  you  have  such  a  February  face. 
So  full  of  frost,  of  storm,  and  cloudiness? 
Claud.  I  think  he  thinks  upon  the  savage  bull. 
Tush,  fear  not,  man ;  we  '11  tip  thy  horns  with 

gold, 
And  all  Europa  shall  rejoice  at  thee; 
As  once  Europa  did  at  lusty  Jove, 
When  he  would  play  the  noble  beast  in  love. 
Bene.  Bull  Jove,  sir,  had  an  amiable  low; 

And  some  such  strange  bull  leap'd  your  father's 

cow, 
And  got  a  calf  in  that  same  noble  feat  50 

ISIuch  like  to  you,  for  you  have  just  his  bleat. 
Claud.  For  this  I  owe  you :  here  comes  other  reck- 
onings. 

Re-enter  Antonio ^  with  the  Ladies  masked. 

Which  is  the  lady  I  must  seize  upon  ? 
Ant.  This  same  is  she,  and  I  do  give  you  her. 
Claud.  Why,  then  she  's  mine.     Sweet,  let  me  see 

your  face. 
Leon.  No,  that  you  shall  not,  till  you  take  her  hand 

Before  this  friar,  and  swear  to  marry  her. 
Claud.  Give  me  your  hand:  before  this  holy  friar, 

I  am  your  husband,  if  you  like  of  me. 
Hero.  And  when  I  lived,  I  was  your  other  wife :    60 

[Uriniasking. 

115. 


Act  V.  Sc.  iv.  MUCH  ADO 

And  when  you  loved,  you  were  my  other  hus- 
band. 
Claud.  Another  Hero! 
Hero.  Nothing  certainer: 

One  Hero  died  defiled;  but  I  do  live 
And  surely  as  I  live,  I  am  a  maid. 
Z).  Pedro.  The  former  Hero!     Hero  that  is  dead! 
Leon.  She  died,  my  lord,  but  whiles  her  slander 

lived. 
Friar.  All  this  amazement  can  I  qualify : 
When  after  that  the  holy  rites  are  ended, 
I  '11  tell  you  largely  of  fair  Hero's  death : , 
Meantime  let  wonder  seem  familiar,  70 

And  to  the  chapel  let  us  presently. 
Bene.  Soft  and  fair,  friar.     Which  is  Beatrice? 
Beat.  [  f7w7na5/cfw^]  I  answer  to  that  name.    What 

is  your  will? 
Bene.  Do  not  you  love  me? 

Beat.  Why,  no;  no  more  than  reason. 

Bene.  Why,  then  your  uncle,  and  the  prince,  and 
Claudio 
Have  been  deceived;  they  swore  you  did. 
Beat.  Do  not  you  love  me  ? 

Bene.  Troth,  no;  no  more  than  reason. 

Beat.  Why,  then  my  cousin,  Margaret,  and  Ursula 
Are  much  deceived ;  for  they  did  swear  you  did. 
Bene.  They  swore  that  you  were  almost  sick  for 
me.  80 

Beat.  They  swore  that  you  were  well-nigh  dead 

for  me. 
Bene.  'Tis  no  such  matter.     Then  you  do  not  love 
me? 

116 


ABOUT  NOTHING  Act  v.  Sc.  iv. 

Beat.  No,  truly,  but  in  friendly  recompense. 

Leon.  Come,  cousin,  I  am  sure  you  love  the  gentle- 
man. 

Claud.  And  I  '11  be  sworn  upon  't  that  he  loves  her ; 
For  here  's  a  paper,  written  in  his  hand, 
A  halting  sonnet  of  his  own  pure  brain. 
Fashion 'd  to  Beatrice. 

Hero.  And  here  's  another, 

Writ  in  my  cousin's  hand,   stolen   from   her 

pocket. 
Containing  her  affection  unto  Benedick.        90 

Bene.  A  miracle !  here 's  our  own  hands 
against  our  hearts.  Come,  I  will  have  thee ; 
but,  by  this  light,  I  take  thee  for  pity. 

Beat.  I  would  not  deny  you;  but,  by  this  good 
day,  I  yield  upon  great  persuasion;  and 
partly  to  save  your  life,  for  I  was  told  you 
were  in  a  consumption. 

Bene.  Peace !  I  will  stop  your  mouth.  [Kissing  her. 

D.  Pedro.  How  dost  thou,  Benedick,  the  mar- 
ried man?  100 

Bene.  I  '11  tell  thee  what,  prince ;  a  college  of 
wit-crackers  cannot  flout  me  out  of  my  hu- 
mor. Dost  thou  think  I  care  for  a  satire  or 
or  an  epigram?  No :  if  a  man  will  be  beaten 
with  brains,  a'  shall  wear  nothing  handsome 
about  him.  In  brief,  since  I  do  purpose  to 
marry,  I  will  think  nothing  to  any  purpose 
that  the  world  can  say  against  it;  and  there- 
fore never  flout  at  me  for  what  I  have  said 
against  it ;  for  man  is  a  giddy  thing,  and  this  HO 

87.  "of  his  own  pure  brain";  of  his  unaided  invention. — C.  H.  H. 

117 


Act  V.  Sc.  iv.  MUCH  ADO 

is  my  conclusion.  For  thy  part,  Claudio,  I 
did  tliink  to  have  beaten  thee;  but  in  that 
thou  art  hke  to  be  my  kinsman,  hve  un- 
bruised,  and  love  my  cousin. 

Claud.  I  had  well  hoped  thou  wouldst  have  de- 
nied Beatrice,  that  I  might  have  cudgeled 
thee  out  of  thy  single  life,  to  make  thee  a 
double-dealer;  which,  out  of  question,  thou 
wilt  be,  if  my  cousin  do  not  look  exceeding 
narrowly  to  thee.  120 

Bene.  Come,  come,  we  are  friends :  let 's  have  a 
dance  ere  we  are  married,  that  we  may 
lighten  our  own  hearts,  and  our  wives'  heels. 

Leon.  We  '11  have  dancing  afterward. 

Bene.  First,  of  my  word ;  therefore  play,  music. 
Prince,  thou  art  sad;  get  thee  a  wife,  get 
thee  a  wife:  there  is  no  staff  more  reverend 
than  one  tipped  with  horn. 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Mess.  My  lord,  your  brother  John  is  ta'en  in 
flight, 
And    brought    with    armed    men    back    to 
Messina.  i;?0 

Bene.  Think  not  on  him  till  to-morrow:  I  '11 
devise  thee  brave  punishments  for  him. 
Strike  up,  pipers.  [Dance.     Exeunt. 

127.  "There  is  no  staf  more  reverend  than  one  tipped  with  horn"; 
i.  e.  having  a  ferrule  of  horn;  there  is,  of  course,  a  quibbling  allu- 
sion in  the  words  to  the  favorite  Elizabethan  joke. — I.  G. 


118 


GLOSSARY 

By  Israel  Gollancz,  M.A. 


Abused,  deceived;  V.  ii.  107. 

Accordant,  favorable;  I.  ii. 
15. 

Adam;  alluding  to  the  outlaw 
Adam  Bell,  famous  as  an  arch- 
er (cp.  Percy's  Reliques);  I.  i. 
276. 

Advertisement,  moral  instruc- 
tion; V.  i.  32. 

Afeard,  afraid;  II,  iii.  168. 

Affect,  love;  I.  i.  316. 

Affection,  desire;  II.  ii.  6. 

After,  afterwards;  I.  i.  346. 

Agate;  an  allusion  to  the  little 
figures  cut  in  agates,  often 
worn  in  rings;  a  symbol  of 
smallness;  III.  i.  65. 

Aim;  "a.  better  at  me,"  form  a 
better  opinion  of  me;  III.  ii. 
102. 

Alliance;  "Good  Lord  for  al." 
i.  e.  "Heaven  send  me  a  hus- 
band," or  "Good  Lord,  how 
many  alliances  are  forming !" ; 
II.  i.  337. 

Alms;  "an  alg^s"=a  charity;  II. 
iii.  176. 

Ancientry,  old  fashioned  man- 
ners; II.  i.  82. 

Angel,  a  gold  coin  (with  pun 
upon  noble  and  angel,  both 
coins) ;  II.  iii.  38. 

Answer;  "to  your  a."  i.  e.  "to 
answer  for  your  conduct";  Y. 
i.  2U. 


Antique,  antic,  buffoon;  III,  i. 
63. 

Antiquely,  fantastically;  V.  i. 
96. 

Apes;  a  reference  to  the  old 
superstition  that  old  maids  liad 
to  lead  apes  in  hell;  II.  i.  44. 

Appear  itself,  api)ear  as  a  real- 
ity; I.  ii.  23. 

Apprehension;  "professed  ap." 
i.  e.  "set  up  for  a  wit";  III, 
iv,  71. 

Approved,  tried,  proved;  II,  i. 
345;  IV.  i.  45, 

Argument,  subject  (for  satire)  ; 
I,  i,  273;  proof;  II.  iii.  261. 

At  a  word  =  in  a  word;  II.  i, 
119. 

Ate,  goddess  of  Fury  and  Mis- 
chief; II.  i,  268, 

Baldrick,  belt;  I.  i.  257. 

Bear  in  hand,  keep  in  (false) 
hope;  IV.  i.  318. 

Bear- ward  (Quartos,  Folios, 
read  berrord;  other  eds.,  bear- 
herd),  bear-leader;  II.  i.  43. 

Beaten;  "b,  with  brains,"  i.  e. 
mocked;  V.  iv,  104, 

Bel;  "God  Bel's  priests"  alludes 
to  some  representation  in 
stained  glass  of  the  story  of 
Bel  and  the  Dragon;  III,  iii, 
149, 

Below    stairs;    "shall    I    always 


119 


Glossary 


MUCH  ADO 


keep  below  stairs,"  an  expres- 
sion of  doubtful  meaning; 
probably  =="  in  the  servant's 
room";  hence  "remain  unmar- 
ried"; V.  ii.  10. 

Bent,  tension,  straining  (prop- 
erly an  expression  of  archery) ; 
II.  iii.  249;  disposition;  IV.  i. 
196. 

Bills;  "set  up  his  bills,"  i.  e. 
"posted  his  challenge,  like  a 
fencing-master";  I.  i.  40. 

Bills,  pikes  carried  by  watch- 
men; III.  iii,  47. 

Bills,  used  quibblingly  for  (1) 
bonds,  and  (2)  watchmen's  hal- 
berds; III.  iii.  198. 

Bird-bolt,  a  short  arrow  with  a 
broad  flat  end,  used  to  kill 
birds  without  piercing;  I.  i.  44. 

Black,  dark-complexioned;  III. 
i.  63. 

Blazon,  explanation;  II.  i.  312. 

Block,  wooden  model  for  shaping 
hats;  I.  i.  81. 

Blood,  temperament;  I.  iii.  31; 
passion;  II.  i.  187. 

Bloods,  young  fellows;  III.  iii. 
146. 

Boarded,  accosted;  II.  i.  150. 

Books;  "not  in  your  books,"  t.  e. 
"not  in  your  good  books";  I. 
i.  83. 

Borrows;  "b.  money  in  God's 
name,"  i.  e.  "begs  it";  V.  i.  334. 

Bottle,  a  small  wooden  barrel; 
I.  i.  274. 

Brave,  becoming,  fitting;  V.  iv. 
132. 

Break,  broach  the  subject;  I.  i. 
329,  346. 

BHEATHiNG=breathing-space;  II. 
i.  387. 

Bbikg,  accompany;  III.  ii.  4. 

BrcKLERs;  "I  give  thee  the  b." 


t.  e.  "I  yield  thee  the  victory"," 
V.  ii.  17. 
By,  concerning;  V.  i.  327. 

Candle-wasters,  those  who  burn 
the  midnight  oil,  bookworms; 
V.  i.  18. 

Canker,  canker-rose;  I.  iii.  29. 

Capon,  used  as  a  term  of  con- 
tempt; (?  a  pun,  according  to 
some="a  fool's  cap  on");  V. 
i.  161. 

Cardutjs;  "C.  Benedictus,"  the 
holy-thistle;  a  plant  supposed 
to  cure  all  diseases,  including 
the  plague;  III.  iv.  76. 

Care  killed  a  cat,  an  old  pro- 
verbial expression;  V.  i.  136. 

Career;  "in  the  c."  i,  e.  "in  tilt- 
ing, as  at  a  tournament";  V.  i. 
138. 

Carpet-mongers,  carpet-knights ; 
V.  ii.  33. 

Carriage,    bearing,    deportment ; 

I.  iii.  32. 

Carry,  carry  out;  II.  iii.  239. 
Carving,    modeling,    fashioning; 

II.  iii.  19. 

Censured,  judged;  II.  iii.  250. 
Charge,  burden;  I.  i.  109;  com-' 

mission,  office;  III.  iii.  8. 
Cheapen,  bid  for;  II.  iii.  36. 
Cinque-pace,    a    lively    kind    of 

dance;  II.  i.  79,  84. 
Circumstances;    "c.    shortened," 

i.  e.  "to  omit  details";  III.  ii. 

110. 
Civet,  a  perfume  made  from  the 

civetcat;  111.  ii.  53. 
Civil,    used    quibblingly    with    a 

play  upon  "civil"  and  "Seville"; 

II.  i.  309. 
Claw,  flatter;  I.  iii.  19. 
Cog,    to    deceive,    especially    by 

smooth  lies;  V.  i.  95. 
Coil;    confusion;    III.    iii.    105; 


120 


ABOUT  NOTHING 


Glossary 


old  coil  =  much  ado,  great  stir, 
"the  devil  to  pay";  V.  ii.  105. 

Coldly,  quietly;  III.  ii.  139. 

Commodity,  any  kind  of  merchan- 
dise; III.  iii.  197. 

Company,  companionship;  V.  i. 
198. 

Comprehended,  blunder  for  "ap- 
prehended"; III.  V.  51. 

Conceit,  conception;  II.  i.  314. 

Conditions,  qualities;  III.  ii.  71. 

Confirmed,  unmoved;  V.  iv.  17, 

Consummate,  consummated;  III. 
ii.  1. 

Contemptible,  contemptuous;  II. 
iii.  202. 

CoNTROLMENT,  coHStralnt;  I.  iii. 
22. 

Conveyance;  "impossible  c."  in- 
credible dexterity;  II.  i.  256. 

Count  Comfect,  i.  e.  "Count 
Sugarplum,"  with  probably  a 
play  upon  conte  or  compte,  a 
fictitious  story;  IV.  i.  331. 

Counties,  counts;  IV.  i.  330. 

County,  count;  II.  i.  196;  II.  i. 
378. 

Courtesies,  "mere  forms  of  courte- 
sy; IV.  i.  335. 

Courtesy  =  curtsey ;  II.  i.  59. 

Cousins,  kinsmen,  enrolled  among 
the  dependants  of  great  fam- 
ilies, little  more  than  attend- 
ants; I.  ii.  27. 

Cross;  "broke  c."  t.  e.  "broke 
athwart  the  opponent's  body"; 
(an  expression  taken  from  tilt- 
ing);  V.  i.  142. 

Cunning,  clever;  V.  i.  242. 

Curst,  shrewish;  II.  i.  22,  23,  &c. 

Daff,  put  off;  V.  i.  78. 
Daffed,  put  aside;  II.  iii.  188. 
Dangerous,  threatening;  V.  i.  97. 
Deadly,  mortally;  V.  i.  184. 


Dear  happiness,  a  precious  piece 
of  good  fortune;  I.  i.  136. 

Decerns  =  a  blunder  for  "con- ' 
cerns";  III.  v.  4. 

Defend,  forbid;  II.  i.  99. 

Defiled  (the  reading  of  the 
Quartos,  omitted  in  the  Folio), 
defiled  by  slander;  V.  iv.  63. 

Deprave,  practice  detraction;  V. 
i.  95. 

Difference,  used;  technically; 
"heraldic  diflFerences"  distin- 
guish the  bearers  of  the  same 
coat  armor,  and  demonstrate 
their  nearness  to  the  represen- 
tative of  the  family;  I.  i.  72. 

Discover,  reveal;  III,  ii.  100. 

Discovered,  revealed;  I.  ii.  12. 

Division,  order,  arrangement;  V. 
i.  238. 

Doctor,  a  learned  person;  V.  i. 
213. 

Don  worm  (Conscience  was  for- 
merly represented  under  the 
symbol  of  a  worm) ;  V.  ii.  91. 

Dotage,  doting  love;  II.  iii.  187, 
241. 

Double-dealer,  one  who  is  un- 
faithful in  love  or  wedlock;  V. 
iv.  118. 

Doublet  and  hose  ;  "in  his  d.  and 
h."  i.  e.  "without  his  cloak";  al- 
luding to  the  custom  of  tak- 
ing off  the  cloak  before  fight- 
ing a  duel;  V.  i.  210. 

Doubt,  suspect;  V.  i.  118. 

Draw,  draw  the  bow  of  a  fiddle 
(according  to  others  draw  the 
instruments  from  their  cases)  ; 
V.  i.  130. 

Drovier  =  drover;  II.  i.  202. 

Dry  hand  (a  sign  of  a  cold  and 
chaste  nature);  II.  i.  123. 

Dumb-show,  a  pantomime;  II.  iii. 
243. 

Dumps,  low  spirits;  II.  iii.  78. 


121 


Glossary 


MUCH  ADO 


Earnest,  liaiidsel,  part  payment; 
11.  i.  43. 

Ecstasy,  madness;  II.  iii.  167. 

Eftest,  quickest  (perhaps  a  blun- 
der for  "deftest");   IV.  ii.  39. 

Embassage,  embassy;  I.  i.  399. 

ExGAGED,  pledged;  IV.  i.  319. 

Entertained,  employed;  I.  iii.  ij2. 

EuROPA,  Europe  (used  quibbling- 
ly);  V.  iv.  45-6. 

Even,  plain;  IV.  1.  277. 

Every  day,  immediately,  without 
delay,  as  the  French  incessam- 
ment;  perhaps  "E.  to-morrow" 
="every  day  (after)  to-mor- 
row"; III.  i.'lOl. 

Excommunication,  blunder  for 
"communication";  III.  v.  71. 

Exhibition;  "e.  to  examine,"  pos- 
sibly a  blunder  for  "examina- 
tion to  exhibit";  IV.  11.  5. 

Experimental;  "e.  seal"  i.  e.  "the 
seal  of  experience";  IV.  i.  176. 


Faith,   fidelity   in   fricndshij);   I. 

i.  79;  honor,  pledge;  V.  iv.  8. 
Fancy,  love;  III.  ii.  33. 
Fashion -MONGiNG,  foppish;  V.  i. 

94. 
Fathers     herself,    is     like     her 

father;  I.  i.  118. 
1''avor,  countenance;  II.  i.  99. 
Fence,  skill  in  fencing;  V.  i.  75. 
T'estival  terms,  not  in  everyday 

language;  V.  ii.  43. 
Fetch   me   in,   draw   me   into   a 

confession;  I,  i.  238. 
Fine,  conclusion;  I.  1.  260. 
Fleer,  sneer;  V.  i.  58. 
Fleet,  company;  II.  i.  149. 
Flight,  shooting  with  the  flight, 

a  kind  of  light  and  well-featli- 

ered  arrow;  I.  i.  41. 
Flout;  "f.  old  ends,"  i.  e.  make 

fun  of  old  endings  of  letters; 

I.  i.  307. 


Flouting  Jack,  mocking  rascal; 
I.  i.  196. 

Foining,  thrusting;  V.  i.  84. 

Frame,  order,  disposition  of 
things;  IV.  i.  136. 

Framed,  devised;  V.  i.  71. 

From,  away  from;  "f.  all  fash- 
ions," averse  to  all  fashions, 
eccentric;  III.  i.  72. 

Full;  "you  have  it  full,"  i.  e. 
"you  are  fully  answered";  I,  i. 
116. 

Full,  fully;  III.  i.  45. 

Furnish,  to  dress;  III.  i.  103. 

Girdle;  "to  turn  his  girdle,"  to 
give  a  challenge  (alluding  to 
the  practice  of  turning  the 
large  buckle  of  the  girdle  be- 
hind one,  previously  to  chal- 
lenging anyone)  ;  V.  i.  147. 

God  save  the  Foundation!  (the 
customary  phrase  employed  by 
those  who  recei%ed  alms  at  the 
gates  of  religious  houses) ;  V. 
i.  316. 

Go  in  =  join  with  you  in;  I.  i. 
199. 

Good  den,  good  evening;  III.  ii. 
86. 

Good-year,  supposed  to  be  a  cor- 
ruption of  goujdre,  a  disease; 
used  as  a  mild  imprecation;  I. 
iii.  1. 

Go  TO  THE  WORLD,  to  iiiarry ;  II. 
i.  338. 

Grace,  favor;  I.  iii.  25. 

Gracious,   attractive;   IV.  i.   113. 

Grant;  the  fairest  grant  ="the 
best  boon  is  that  which  an-< 
swers  the  necessities  of  the 
case";  I.  i.  337. 

Great  Cham,  the  Khan  of  Tar- 
tary;  II.  i.  283. 

Guarded,  ornamented;  I.  i.  305. 

Guards,  ornaments;  I.  i.  306. 

Guerdon,  recompense;  V.  iii.  5. 


122 


ABOUT  NOTHING 


Glossary 


H,  I.  e.  ache;  the  latter  word  and 
the  name  of  the  letter  were 
pronounced  alike;  III.  iv.  59. 

Haggards,  wild,  untrained  hawks; 
HI.  i.  36. 

Half-pence,  very  small  pieces; 
II.  iii.  156. 

Happiness;  "outward  happiness," 
i.  e.  "prepossessing  appear- 
ance"; II.  iii.  204. 

Hare-finder,  one  skilled  to  find 
the  hare;  with  perhaps  a  play 
upon  "hair-finder";  I.  i.  197. 

Head,  "to  thy  head"="to  thy 
face";  V.  i.  62. 

Hearken  after,  inquire  into;  V. 
i.  223. 

"Heigh-ho  for  a  husband,"  the 
title  of  an  old  ballad  still  ex- 
tant (cp.  III.  iv.  57,  58)  ;  II.  i. 
340. 

Height,  highest  degree;  IV.  i. 
315. 

High-proof,  in  a  high  degree;  V. 
i.  123. 

Hobby-horses  (used  as  a  term  of 
contempt)  ;  III.  ii.  78. 

Hold  it  up,  continue  it;  II.  iii. 
134. 

Holds;  "h.  you  well,"  thinks  well 
of  you;  III.  ii.  104. 

How,  however;  III.  i.  60. 

"Hundred  Merry  Tales,"  a  pop- 
ular jest-book  of  the  time  (in- 
cluded in  Hazlitt's  Collection 
of  Shakespeare  Jest  Books, 
1864) ;  II.  i.  135. 

Important,    importunate;    II.    i. 

75. 
Impose  me  to,  impose  upon  me; 

V.  i.  294. 
In,  with;  II.  i.  69. 
Incensed,  instigated;  V.  i.  251. 
Infinite,  infinite  stretch,  utmost 

power;  II.  iii.  112. 

1! 


In    respect    oF  =  in    comparison 

with;  III.  iv.  20. 
Intend,  pretend;  II.  ii.  36. 
In  that,  inasmuch  as;  V.  iv.  112. 
Invention,  mental  activity;   IV. 

i.  204. 
Inwardness,  intimacy;  IV.  i.  256. 

Jacks   (used  as  a  term  of  con- 
tempt) ;  V.  i.  91. 
Just,  that  is  so;  II.  i.  29. 

KiD-Fox,  young  fox;  II.  iii.  46. 
Kind,  natural;  I.  i.  27. 
Kindly,  natural;  IV.  i.  78. 

Lapwing,  a  reference  to  the  habit 
of  the  female  green  plover; 
when  disturbed  on  its  nest  it 
runs  close  to  the  ground  a 
short  distance  without  utter- 
ing any  cry,  while  the  male 
bird  keeps  flying  round  the 
intruder,  uttering  its  peculiar 
cry  very  rapidly  and  loudly, 
and  trying,  by  every  means,  to 
draw  him  in  a  contrary  direc- 
tion from  the  nest;  III.  i.  24. 

Large,  "large  jests,"  broad  jests; 

II.  iii.  222. 

Large,  free,  licentious;  IV.  i.  54. 
Leap'd,  covered;  V.  iv.  49. 
I>earn,  teach;  IV.  i.  31. 
I>EWD,  depraved;  V.  i.  364. 
Liberal,  licentious;  IV.  i.  97. 
Light    o'    Love,    a    popular    old 
dance  tune,  often  referred  to; 

III.  iv.  47. 

Limed,  snared  as  with  bird-lime; 
III.  i.  104. 

Liver  (used  as  "heart"  for  the 
seat  of  love)  ;  IV.  i.  242. 

Lock,  a  love-lock;  III.  iii.  190. 

Lock;  "he  wears  a  key  in  his  ear, 
and  a  1.  hanging  by  it,"  a  quib- 
bling   allusion    to    the    "love- 


Glossary 


MUCH  ADO 


locks"  worn  at  the  time,  and 
perhaps  to  the  fashion  of  wear- 
ing roses  in  the  ears;  V.  i.  333. 

Lodge,  the  hut  occupied  by  the 
watchman  in  a  rabbit-warren; 
II.  i.  224. 

Low,  short;  III.  1.  65. 

LusTiHOOD,  vigor;  V.  i.  76. 

Luxurious,  lustful;  IV.  i.  42. 

March-chick,  chicken  hatched  in 
March,  denoting  precpcity;  I. 
iii.  60. 

Marl,  a  kind  of  clay;  II.  i.  67. 

Match,  mate,  marry;  II.  i.  69. 

Matter,  sense,  seriousness;  II.  i. 
351. 

Matter,  "no  such  matter,"  noth- 
ing of  the  kind;  II.  iii.  241. 

May,  can;  IV.  i.  278. 

Measure,  used  quibblingly  in  dou- 
ble sense  in  connection  with 
dance;  II.  i.  75. 

Medicinable,  medicinal;  II.  ii.  5. 

Meet  with,  even  with;  I.  i.  49. 

Merely,  entirely;  II.  iii.  242. 

Metal,  material;  II.  i.  64. 

MiSGovERNMENT,  Hiisconduct;  IV. 
i.  104. 

Misprising,  despising;  III.  i.  52. 

Misprision,  mistake;  IV.  i.  195. 

Misuse,  deceive;  II.  ii.  28. 

Misused,  abused;  II.  i.  249. 

MoE,  more;  II.  iii.  77. 

Monument;  "in  m.":="in  men's 
memory";  V.  ii.  86. 

Moral,  hidden  meaning,  like  the 
moral  of  a  fable;  III.  iv.  81. 

Moral,  ready  to  moralize;  V.  i. 
30. 

Mortifying,  killing;   I.  iii.   13. 

Mountain,  a  great  heap,  a  huge 
amount;  II.  i.  391. 

MouNTANTo,  i.  e.  montanto,  a 
term  in  fencing,  "an  upright 
blow  or  thrust,"  applied  by 
Beatrice  to  Benedict;  I    i.  31. 

1 


Near,  dear  to;  II.  i.  170. 

Neighbors;  the  time  of  "good  n." 
i.  e.  "when  men  were  not  en- 
vious of  one  another";  V.  ii. 
84. 

New-thothed,  newly  betrothed; 
III.  i.  38. 

Night-gown,  dressing  gown;  III. 
iv.  19. 

Night-haven,  the  owl  or  the 
night-heron;  II.  iii.  89. 

Noncome;  "to  a  n."  probably  = 
to  be  non  compos  mentis;  III. 
V.  70. 

Nothing,  pronounced  much  in 
the  same  way  as  "noting"; 
hence  the  pun  here  on  "no- 
thing" and  "noting";  II.  iii.  64. 

Nuptial,  marriage  ceremony;  IV. 
i.  71. 

Of,  by;  I.  i.  132. 

Off,  away  from;  III.  v.  10. 

On,  of;  IV.  i.  145. 

Only,  alone,  of  all  others;  I.  iii. 
43. 

Opinioned,  a  blunder  for  "pin- 
ioned"; IV.  ii.  72. 

Orchard,  garden;  I.  ii.  10. 

Orthograp  HY^=orthographer, 
one  who  uses  fine  words;  II.  iii. 
22. 

Out-facing,  facing  the  matter 
out  with  looks;  V.  i.  94. 

Over-borne,  overcome;  II.  iii. 
167. 

Pack'd,  implicated;  V.  i.  322. 

Palabras,  i.  e.  pocas  palabras, 
(Spanish )="few  words";  III. 
V.  18. 

Partridge  wing  (formerly  con- 
sidered the  most  delicate  part 
of  the  bird);  II.  i.  156. 

Passing,  exceedingly;  II.  i.  86. 

Passion,  emotion;  V.  i.  23. 


24 


ABOUT  NOTHING 


Glossary 


Pent-house,  a  porch  or  shed  with 
sloping  roof;  III.  iii.  115. 

Philemon's  roof;  an  allusion  to 
the  story  of  the  peasant  Phile- 
mon and  his  Baucis,  who  re- 
ceived Jupiter  into  their 
thatched  cottage;  II.  i.  101. 

Piety,  Dogberry's  blunder  for 
"impiety";  IV.  ii.  86. 

Pigmies,  a  race  of  dwarfs  fabled 
to  dwell  beyond  Mount  Imaus 
in  India;  II.  i.  284. 

Pikes,  central  spikes  screwed  into 
the  bucklers  or  shields,  of  the 
16th  century;  V.  ii.  21. 

Pitch;  "they  that  touch  pitch, 
&c.,"  a  popular  proverb  de- 
rived from  Ecclesiatticus  xiii. 
1;  III.  iii.  64. 

Pleached,  interwoven;  III.  i.  7. 

Pleasant,  merry;  I.  i.  38. 

Pluck  up,  rouse  thyself;  V.  i. 
214. 

Possess,  inform;  V.  i.  303. 

Possessed,  influenced;  III.  iii.  173. 

Practice,  contrivance,  plotting; 
IV.  i.  198. 

Preceptial;  "p.  medicine,"  f.  e. 
"the  medicine  of  precepts";  V. 
i.  24. 

Present,  represent;  III.  iii.  83. 

Presently,  immediately;  II.  ii. 
60. 

Press;  an  allusion  to  the  punish- 
ment known  as  the  peine  forte 
et  dure,  which  consisted  of 
piling  heavy  weights  on  the 
body;  III.  i.  76. 

Prester  John,  Presbyter  John, 
a  mythical  Christian  King  of 
India,  of  whose  wonders  Man- 
deville  tells  us  much;  II.  i. 
282. 

Prized,  estimated;  III.  i.  90. 

Prohibit  (used  amiss  by  Dog- 
berry) ;  V.  i.  355. 


Prolong'd,  deferred;  IV.  i.  266. 
Proof;   "your   own   p."   t.   e.  "in 

your  own  trial  of  her";  IV.  i. 

46. 
Proper,  handsome;  II.  iii.  203. 
Properest,  handsomest;  V.  i.  180. 
Propose,  conversation;  III.  i.  12. 
Proposing,  conversing;   III.  i.  3. 
Push;   "made  a  push   at,"   i.   e. 

"defied";  V.  i.  38. 

Qualify,  moderate;  V.  iv.  67.  V 

Queasy,  squeamish;   II.  i.  399. 

Question;  "in  q."  i.  e.  "under 
trial,  subject  to  judicial  ex- 
amination"; III.  iii.  199. 

Question  =  that 's  the  question ; 
V.  ii.  89. 

Question,  investigation;  V.  iv.  6. 

Quips,  sarcasms;  II.  iii.  268. 

Quirks,  shallow  conceits;  II.  iii. 
264. 

Quit,  requite;  IV.  i.  210. 

Rabato,  collar,  ruff;  III.  iv.  6. 

Rack,  stretch,  exaggerate;  IV.  i. 
231. 

Reasons  (punning,  according  to 
some  commentators,  upon  "rea- 
sons" and  "raisins");  V.  i.  218. 

Recheat,  a  term  of  the  chase; 
the  call  sounded  to  bring  the 
dogs  back;  I.  i.  256. 

Reclusive,  secluded;  IV.  i.  253. 

Redemption,  a  blunder  for  "i)er- 
dition";  IV.  ii.  61. 

Reechy,  reeky,  dirty;  III.  iii. 
148. 

Reformed,  Dogberry's  blunder 
for  informed;  V.  i.  273. 

Remorse,  compassion;  IV.  i.  222. 

Render,  give  back;  IV.  i.  30. 

Reportingly,  on  mere  report; 
III.  i.  116. 

Reprove,  disprove;  II.  iii.  259. 


125 


Glossary 


MUCH  ADO 


Revi;rence,  privilege  of  age;  V. 

i.  64. 
Rheum,  tears;  V.  ii.  90. 
Right;   "do  me   right,"   give   me 

satisfaction;  V.  i.  153. 

Sad,  serious;  I.  i.  193;  I.  iii.  (i4; 
II.  i.  366-7. 

Sai>l\,  seriously;  II.  iii.  2i6. 

Salved,  palliated;   I.  i.  335. 

Saturn;  "born  under  S."  i.  e.  "of 
a  saturnine  or  plilegraatic  dis- 
position"; I.  iii.  1:2. 

Scab,  used  quibblingly  for  (1) 
sore,  and  {-2)  a  low  fellow;  III. 
iii.  112. 

ScASiBLiNG,  scrambling;  Y.  i.  94. 

Seemixg,  hypocrisy;  IV.  i.  58. 

Self-endeared,  self-loving;  III. 
i.  56. 

Sextexces,  sententious  sayings; 
II.  iii.  268. 

Seven-night,  "a  just  s."  i.  e. 
"exactly  a  week";  II.  i.  383. 

Shaven  Hercules,  probably  al- 
ludes to  Hercules,  shaved  to 
look  like  a  woman,  while  in 
the  service  of  Omphale;  III.  iii. 
151. 

Shrewd,  shrewish;   II.  i.  20. 

Side,  long;  III.  iv.  22. 

Sigh;  "sigh  away  Sundays,"  pos- 
sibly an  allusion  to  the  Puri- 
tans' Sabbath;  according  to 
others  the  j)hrase  signifies  that 
a  man  has  no  rest  at  all;  I. 
i.  216. 

Slanders,  misapplied  by  Dog- 
berry for  "slanderers";  V.  i. 
228.' 

Slops,  large  loose  breeches;  III. 
ii.  38. 

S.mirched,  soiled;  III.  iii.  151. 

S.MOKiNG,  fumigating;  I.  iii.  63. 

So,  if;  II.  i.  93. 

Soft  tou,  hold,  stop;  V.  i,  214. 


Sort,  rank;  I.  i.  7;  I.  i.  34. 

Sort,  turn  out;  V.  iv.  7. 

Speed's,  i.  e.  speed  us;  V.  iii.  32. 

Spell;  "s.  him  backward,"  mis- 
construe him;  III.  i.  61. 

Squarer,  quarreler;  I.  i.  86. 

Staff,  lance;  V.  i.  141. 

Stale,  harlot ;  IV.  i.  67. 

Stalk,  walk,  like  a  fowler  behind 
a  stalking-horse;  II.  iii.  101. 

Start-up,  up-start;  I.  iii.  71. 

Stomach,  appetite;  I.  iii.  16. 

Stops,  the  divisions  on  the  finger- 
board of  a  lute;  III.  ii.  65. 

Strain,  family,  lineage;  II.  i. 
404. 

Strain;  "strain  for  strain,"  i.  e. 
feeling  for  feeling;  V.  i.  12. 

Style  (used  with  a  quibble  on 
"stile");  V.  ii.  6. 

Success,  the  issue;  IV.  i.  245. 

Sufferance,  suffering;   V.  i.  38. 

SuFFiGANCE,  blunder  for  "suffi- 
cient"; III.  V.  57. 

Sun-burnt,  homely,  ill-favored; 
II.  i.  339. 

Sure,  faithful;  I.  iii.  73. 

Suspect,  misapplied  for  "re- 
spect"; IV.  ii.  81,  82. 

Suspicion  (i.  e.  suspicion  of  hav- 
ing horns  under  it)  ;  I.  i.  213. 

Swift,  ready;  III.  i.  89. 

1 

Taken  up,  used  qnibblingly  for 
(1)  arrested,  and  (2)  obtained 
on  credit;  III.  iii.  198. 

Tale;  "both  in  a  tale,"  i.  e.  "they 
both  say  the  same";  IV.  ii.  34. 

Tax,  to  censure;  I.  i.  48. 

Teach,  to  be  taught;  I.  i.  311. 

Temper,  compound,  mix;  II.  ii. 
21. 

Temporize,  make  terms;  I.  i.  292. 

Terminations,  terms;   II.  i.  260. 

Thick-pleached,  thickly  inter- 
woven; I.  ii.  10. 

26 


ABOUT  NOTHING 


Glossary 


TiCKi.ixo     (trisj'Ilabic) ;     III.     i. 

80. 
Tire,  head-dress;  III.  iv.  V.i. 
To,  with;  II.  i.  247. 
Tongues;   "he   hath  the   t."   i.   e. 

"he  knows  foreign  languages"; 

V.  i.  173. 
To-night,  last  night;  III.  v.  34. 
Tooth-picker  =  tooth-pick ;  II.  i. 

280. 
Top;  "by  the  top"=:by  the  fore- 
lock; I.  ii.  16. 
Trace,  walk;  III.  i,  16. 
Trans-shape,    caricature;    V.    i. 

178. 
Trial;  "to  trial  of  a  man,"  i.  e. 

"to  a  combat,  man   to  man"; 

V.  i.  66. 
Trow  =  trow  ye,  L  e.  think  ye? 

III.  iv.  62. 
Truth,  genuine  proof;  II.  ii.  50. 
Tuition,  guardianship;  I.  i.  300. 
Turned     Turk  =  completely 

changed  for  the  worse;  III.  iv. 

60. 
Tvrant,  pitiless  censor;  I.  i.  178. 

Unconfirmed,  inexperienced;  III. 
iii.  129. 

Underborne,  trimmed,  faced ; 
III.  iv.  22. 

Undergoes,  is  subject  to;  V.  ii. 
59. 

Unhappiness,  wanton  or  mis- 
chievous tricks;  II.  i.  368. 

Untowardly,  unluckily;  III.  ii. 
141. 

Up  and  down,  exactly;  II.  i.  12i. 


Upon,  in  consequence  of;   IV.  i. 

i?34.. 
Use,  usury,  interest;  II.  i.  294. 
Used;  "hath  u."  i.  e.  has  made  a 

practice   of;   used   equivocally; 

V,  i.  335. 
Usurer's    chain,    an    allusion   to 

the    gold    chains    worn    by    the 

more  wealthy  merchants,  many 

of  whom   were   bankers;    II.   i. 

198. 

Vagrom,  Dogberry's  blunder  for 
vagrant;  III.  iii.  28. 

Venice,  the  city  of  pleasure- 
seekers,  frequently  alluded  to 
as  such  by  Elizabethan  wri- 
ters; I.  i.  289. 

Weak,  foolish;  III.  i.  54. 

Weeds,  garments,  dress;  V.  iii. 
30. 

Windy;  "on  the  w.  side  of  care," 
i.  e.  "to  windward  of  care"  (the 
metaphor  being  from  two  sail- 
ing boats  racing) ;  II.  i.  334. 

Wish,  desire;  III.  i.  42. 

Wit,  wisdom;  II.  iii.  209. 

With  =  by;  II.  i.  64;  V.  iv.  129. 

Wits;  "five  wits,"  J.  e.  "the  five 
intellectual  powers, — common 
wit,  imagination,  fantasy,  esti- 
mation, memory";  I.  i    69. 

Woe,  woeful  tribute;  V.  iii.  33. 

Woo,  press:  II.  iii.  53, 

Woodcock,  fool;  V.  i.  163. 

Woolen,  blankets;   II.  i.  3.3. 

Wring,  writhe;  V.  i.  28. 


127 


STUDY  QUESTIONS 

By  Anne  Throop  Craig 

GENERAL 

1.  What  are  the  sources  of  the  plot  of  this  play? 

2.  What  stage  of  the  poet's  development  is  manifest  in 
its  style?  Characterize  the  style  and  movement,  and  the 
interplay  of  scenes. 

3.  What  are  the  causes  of  the  play's  effectiveness  on  the 
stage?  Characterize  the  nature  of  its  interest  and  specify 
scenes  that  carry  its  points  of  variety. 

4.  What  does  Coleridge  say  about  the  comparative  value 
of  plot  and  characters  in  drama,  and  specifically  as  pointed 
in  this  play? 

5.  Compare  the  wit  of  Beatrice  and  Benedick.  Describe 
the  character  impression  they  make. 

6.  State  the  adverse  opinions  of  Beatrice  held  by  some 
commentators. 

7.  Describe  the  impression  of  Claudio's  character.  Can 
anything  explain  the  presentment  of  his  action  as  some- 
times incompatible  with  a  sensible  temper  or  understand- 
ing? 

8.  Give  a  character-sketch  of  Hero. 

9.  What  is  the  danger  of  over  sharpness  of  wit  even 
with  wholesomeness  of  spirit  and  intellectual  force, — as  ex- 
emplified in  Beatrice  and  Benedick? 

10.  Why  is  the  repetition  of  the  stratagem  in  both  the 
cases  of  Beatrice  and  Benedick  necessary  to  bring  about 
their  straightforward  and  simple  recognition  of  each  other? 

11.  What  is  Don  John's  place  in  the  scheme  of  the 
play? 

128 


ABOUT   NOTHING  Study  Questions 

ACT    I 

12.  Why  does  the  conversation  between  Don  Pedro  and 
Benedick  arouse  suspicion  as  to  the  outcome  of  the  drama? 
Why  is  such  a  dramatic  effect  important  in  the  introduc- 
tory scene? 

13.  What  is  the  keynote  of  Don  John's  mood  as  intro- 
duced in  scene  iii? 

14.  What  is  the  dramatic  effect  of  introducing  Beatrice 
at  once  with  her  sharpest  characteristic  expression? 

15.  What  might  the  witty  banter  between  Beatrice  and 
Benedick  have  signified  to  an  observer  of  the  note  they 
actually  took  of  one  another?  Who  especially  seems  to 
have  been  an  experienced  and  sympathetic  observer  in  this 
respect  ? 

16.  Does  Benedick  say  anything  in  the  introductory 
scene  that  would  indicate  admiration  for  Beatrice? — If  so — 
does  it  produce  the  impression  of  being  conscious, — or  of 
being  the  expression  of  an  unrealized  undercurrent  of  ap- 
preciation of  her? 

17.  What  initial  impression  does  Claudio  make? 

18.  To  what  old  tale  does  Benedict  refer  when  he  quotes, 
"It  Is  not  so,  nor  'twas  not  so,  but,  indeed,  God  forbid  it 
should  be  so,"  in  lines  231-233,  scene  i? 

19.  What  scene  leads  to  the  specific  action  of  the  plot? 

ACT    n 

20.  What  Is  the  character  of  Claudio's  expression  of 
love  for  Hero  ?  What  is  the  dramatic  method  employed  to 
make  his  mood  apparent? 

21.  Does  Don  John  appear  to  have  made  any  definite 
plan  for  crossing  Claudio's  love  when  he  tells  Claudio  that 
Don  Pedro  loves  her? 

22.  Why  does  Don  John  feel  evilly  disposed  towards 
Claudio  ?  Who  gives  him  his  first  idea  for  focusing  his  ill 
will  in  a  specific  act? 

23.  Has  Benedick  already  in  the  first  two  acts  shown 
his  own  qualities  without  the  praises  of  Don  Pedro  and  oth- 

XIX-9  129 


Study  Questions  MUCH   ADO 

ers,  or  do  these  materially  assist  the  introductory  concep- 
tion of  him? 

^•i.  What  passages  in  this  act  show  more  a  merry-heart- 
edness  at  the  root  of  all  Beatrice's  wit,  than  any  of  the 
shrewish  sharpness  sometimes  accredited  to  her? 

25.  Characterize  the  comedy  element  of  the  scene  of  the 
talk  in  the  orchard  for  the  hidden  Benedick's  benefit. 
What  is  a  particularly  realistic  touch,- — for  such  a  sit- 
uation,— in  the  interplay  of  the  fancy  of  the  speakers  dis- 
cussing Benedick? 

26.  Indicate  the  dramatic  effects  of  the  play  of  "asides" 
and  what  Benedick  is  intended  to  overhear,  in  this  scene. 

27.  Describe  the  comedy  and  the  human  elements  in  the 
change  of  base.  Benedick  expresses,  in  his  first  soliloquy 
and  his  last,  in  scene  iii. 

28.  In  what  sense  does  Don  Pedro  probably  use  "con- 
temptible" in  line  202,  scene  iii? 

29.  What  is  meant  by  "within  the  house  is  Jove,"  line 
102,  scene  i? 

30.  In  what  sense  does  Benedick  use  "bitter"  in  line  216, 
scene  i? 

31.  Where  does  Leonato  voice  what  might  be  a  general 
impression  of  the  chance  of  congeniality  between  Beatrice 
and  Benedick?  Does  this  impression  seem  likely  to  prove 
superficial  from  the  trend  of  their  character  drawing  in  the 
first  two  acts? 

ACT   in 

32.  Compare  scene  iii  of  Act  II  with  scene  i,  Act  III. 
Is  there  an  essential  diff'erence  between  them  in  spite  of 
their  similar  intent?     If  so,  to  what  is  it  due? 

33.  Compare  Beatrice's  expression  of  the  effect  upon  her 
of  the  overheard  conversation  of  Hero  and  Ursula, — with 
that  of  Benedick  in  the  similar  case  in  the  orchard. 

34.  Are  the  distinctions  which  answer  questions  32  and 
33  characteristic  of  the  Poet's  insight  into  the  relative  na- 
tures of  men  and  women?  In  what  ways?  State  by 
analysis. 

130 


AJJOUT    NOTHING  Study  Questions 

35.  In  line  9,  scene  ii,  what  is  Don  Pedro's  object  in  sug- 
gesting to  Benedick  that  he  accompany  him  to  Arragon, — 
and  in  further  expatiating  on  Benedick's  heart-whole  con- 
dition?    What  dramatic  purpose  in  the  scene  does  it  serve? 

36.  What  does  Claudio  mean  by  "crept  into  a  lute- 
string," line  G-i,  scene  ii? 

37.  Comment  on  the  banter  directed  at  Benedick  in 
scene  ii.      On  Benedick's  mode  of  taking  it. 

38.  Describe  Dogberry.  What  has  made  him  so  marked 
a  character? — Cite  commentary  on  him. 

39.  What  would  be  the  sympathetic  interpretation  of 
Dogberry  by  an  actor? 

40.  Docs  Dogberry  seem  to  express  a  merry  satire  on 
officials  of  his  genre?  In  what  respects,  if  so,  is  this  dra- 
matically presented? 

41.  Characterize  the  scene  in  which  Margaret  and  Hero 
tease  Beatrice,  and  lead  her  on  to  her  awakening  feeling 
for  Benedick.  What  are  the  playful  tactics  employed,  and 
how  do  they  succeed? 

42.  Is  the  effect  of  the  suspension  of  the  crisis  at  the 
end  of  this  act,  that  of  a  fatality,  or  does  it  seem  forced? 
Do  dela3s  at  critical  times  occur  in  such  ways  in  real  life? 
What  can  be  said  of  the  relation  of  Dogberry's  character- 
istic action  and  the  effect  produced  by  the  delay  at  this 
point? 

ACT    IV 

43.  Describe  the  handling  of  scene  i. 

44.  Was  it  natural  or  vmnatural  that  Claudio  and  Don 
Pedro  should  believe  in  the  evidence  Don  John  presented 
to  them  concerning  Hero's  unfaithfulness?  Is  their  belief 
a  dramatic  necessity  to  the  plot? 

45.  Was  Claudio's  choice  of  the  church  wedding  for  his 
disclosure  more  dramatic,  than  it  would  be  justifiable  in 
real  life?  What  is  the  apparently  instinctive  feeling  of 
Beatrice  about  it? 

46.  How  is  the  dramatic  change  of  mood  at  Hero's 
broken-off  wedding  helpful  to  the  love  affair  of  Benedick 

181 


study  Questions  MUCH   ADO 

and  Beatrice  ?  Does  it  complete  the  work  of  the  stratagem 
begun  previously  by  their  friends?  What  does  this  epi- 
sode of  Hero's  trouble  show  of  the  real  natures  of  Beatrice 
and  Benedick? 

47.  In  a  dramatic  sense, — how  does  this  episode  of 
Hero's  suffering  and  wrong  appertain  to  a  comedy,  and  not 
to  a  tragedy  ?     State  the  distinction. 

ACT    V 

48.  In  scene  i  does  Claudio's  "gossip-like  humor"  at  the 
encounter  with  Benedick  seem  too  light  in  the  circum- 
stances?— Why  might  he  outwardly  appear  light  in  such  a 
case  ? 

49.  To  what  custom  does  Leonato  refer  when  he  says 
*'Hang  her  an  epitaph  upon  her  tomb,"  line  306,  scene  i? 

50.  Describe  the  movement  of  the  last  scene.  Charac- 
terize its  dramatic  quality ; — the  play  of  talk  and  mood  as 
according  with  the  nature  of  the  resolution,  and  the  by- 
play of  cheerful  banter  that  has  lead  up  to  it. 

51.  Trace  the  movement  of  the  central  plot  from  its  in- 
ception to  the  resolution  of  the  drama.  What  is  directly 
preliminary  to  it.'' — Where  first  active? — Where  does  it 
critically  develop? — What  scenes  sustain  the  critical  inter- 
val? Who  represents  the  genius  of  the  plot?  As  distin- 
guished from  this,  what  characters  and  action  convey  the 
atmosphere  and  quality  of  the  play? 


182 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET, 
PRINCE  OF  DENMARK 


All  the  unsigned  footnotes  in  this  volume  are  by  the 
writer  of  the  article  to  which  they  are  appended.  The  in- 
terpretation of  the  initials  signed  to  the  others  is :  I.  G. 
=  Israel  Gollancz,  M.A. ;  H.  N.  H.=  Henry  Norman 
Hudson,  A.M.;  C.  H.  H.=  C.  H.  Herford,  Litt.D. 


PREFACE 

By  Israel  Gollancz,  M.A. 

THE    EARLY    EDITIONS 

The  authorized  text  of  Hamlet  is  based  on  (i)  a  Quarto 
edition  published  in  the  year  1604,  and  (ii)  the  First  Foho 
version  of  1623,  where  the  play  follows  Julius  Casar  and 
Macbeth,  preceding  King  Lear.  The  Quarto  of  1604<  has 
the  following  title-page : — 

"The  I  Tragicall  Historie  of  [  Hamlet,  |  Prince  of 
Denmarke.  \  By  William  Shakespeare.  |  Newly  imprinted 
and  enlarged  to  almost  as  much  |  againe  as  it  was,  accord- 
ing to  the  true  and  perfect  |  Coppie.  |  At  London,  | 
Printed  by  I.  R.  for  N.  L.  and  are  to  be  sold  at  his  |  shoppe 
vnder  Saint  Dunston's  Church  in  [  Fleetstreet.  1604" 
{vide  No.  2  of  Shakespeare  Quarto  Facsimiles,  issued  by  W. 
Griggs,  under  the  superintendence  of  Dr.  Furnival). 

A  comparison  of  the  two  texts  shows  that  they  are  de- 
rived from  independent  sources ;  neither  is  a  true  copy  of 
the  author's  manuscript ;  the  Quarto  edition,  though  very 
carelessly  printed,  is  longer  than  the  Folio  version,  and 
is  essentially  more  valuable;  on  the  other  hand,  the.Ii'olio 
version  contains  a  few  passages  which  are  not  fomx^l^ 
the  Quarto,  and  contrasts  favorably  with  ijt  in  t]irj,,lcss 
important  matter  of  typographical  accuracy  (tvV/jr  .^oJses^ 
passim  ) . 

The  two  edition"  represent,  in  all  probability,  twj  dis- 
tinct acting  versions  of  Shakespeare's  perfect  titixt. 

Quarto  editions  appeared  in  1605,  1611.  area  IGJ'I— 
1637,  1637;  each  is  derived  from  the  edition  immeciatelV 


Preface  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

preceding  it,  the  Qucarto  of  1605  differing  from  that  of 
1604  only  in  the  sHghtest  degree. 

THE    FIRST    QUARTO 

The  1604  edition  is  generally  known  as  the  Second 
Quarto,  to  distinguish  it  from  a  remarkable  production 
which  appeared  in  the  previous  year: — 

"The  I  Tragicall  Historie  of  |  Hamlet  |  Prince  of  Den^ 
marke  |  By  William  Shake-speare.  |  As  it  hath  been  diuerse 
timis  acted  by  his  Highnesse  ser-  |  uants  in  the  Cittie  of 
London :  as  also  in  the  two  V-  |  niuersities  of  Cambridge 
and  Oxford,  and  else-where  |  At  London  printed  for  N :  L. 
and  John  Trundell.   |   1603." 

No  copy  of  this  Quarto  was  known  until  1823,  when 
Sir  Henry  Bunbury  discovered  the  treasure  in  "a  small 
Quarto,  barbarously  cropped,  and  very  ill-bound,"  contain- 
ing some  dozen  Shakespearean  plays.  It  ultimately  be- 
came the  property  of  the  Duke  of  Devonshire  for  the  sum 
of  £230.  Unfortunately,  the  last  page  of  the  play  was 
missing. 

In  1856  another  copy  was  bought  from  a  student  of 
Trinity  College,  Dublin,  by  a  Dublin  book-dealer,  for  one 
shilling,  and  sold  by  him  for  £70 ;  it  is  now  in  the  British 
Museum.  In  this  copy  the  title-page  is  lacking,  but  it 
supplies  the  missing  last  page  of  the  Devonshire  Quarto.^ 

In  connection  with  the  publication  of  the  1603  Quarto, 
reference  must  be  made  to  the  following  entry  in  the  Sttt" 
tioners'  Register: — 

1  In  1858  a  lithographed  facsimile  was  issued  by  the  Duke,  in  a 
■f'.ry  ^ited  impression.  The  first  serviceable  edition,  and  still  per- 
hajKf5e  best,  appeared  in  1860,  together  with  the  Quarto  of  1604, 
"bein^  exact  Reprints  of  the  First  and  Second  Editions  of  Shake- 
*p#Sre»  ffreat  Dfbma,  from  the  very  rare  Originals  in  the  possession 
of  his  Grace  the  Duke  of  Devonshire]  with  the  two  texts  printed 
affi  opposite. jJffges,  and  so  arranged  that  the  parallel  passages  face 
.0ach  ether.  And  a  Bibliographical  Preface  by  Samuel  Timmins. 
...  Loofee  heere  vpon  this  Picture,  and  on  this."  Lithographic 
reprints 'were  also  issued  by  E.  W.  Ashbee  and  W.  Griggs;  the  text 
is  repinted  in  the  Cambridge  Shakespeare,  etc. 


PRINCE   OF   DENMARK  Preface 

"[1603]  XXV j  to  Julij. 
James  Bobertes.  Entered  for  his  Copie  vnder  the  handes  of  master 
Pasfield  and  master  Waterson  Warden  A  booke 
called  'the  Revenge  of  Hamlett  Prince  [of]  Den- 
marke'  as  yt  was  lateli  Acted  by  the  Lord  Chamber- 
leyne  his  servantes    .     .     .     vjd." 

James  Robertes,  the  printer  of  the  1604  edition,  may  also 
have  been  the  printer  of  the  Quarto  of  1603,  and  this  en- 
try may  have  had  reference  to  its  projected  pubhcation; 
it  is  noteworthy  that  in  1603  "the  Lord  Chamberlain's 
Servants"  became  "The  King's  Players,"  and  the  Quarto 
states  that  the  play  had  been  acted  "by  His  Highness'  Serv- 
ants." On  the  other  hand,  the  entry  may  have  been  made 
by  Robertes  to  secure  the  play  to  himself,  and  some  "in- 
ferior and  nameless  printer"  may  have  anticipated  him  by 
the  publication  of  an  imperfect,  surreptitious,  and  garbled 
version,  impudently  offering  as  Shakespeare's  such 
wretched  stuff  as  this: — 

"To  be,  or  not  to  be,  I  there's  the  point, 
To  Die,  to  sleepe,  is  that  all:  I  all? 
No,  to  sleepe,  to  dreame,  I  mary  there  it  goes, 
For  in  that  dreame  of  death,  when  wee  awake, 
And  borne  before  an  e'erlasting  Judge; 
From  whence  no  passenger  ever  return'd. 
The  undiscoured  country,  at  whose  sight 
The  hapjyy  smile,  and  the  accursed  damn'd." 

The  dullest  poetaster  could  not  have  been  guilty  of  this 
nonsense:  a  second-rate  playwright  might  have  put  these 
last  words  in  Hamlet's  mouth: — 

^^Mine  eyes  haue  lost  their  sight,  my  tongue  his  vse: 
Farewell  Horatio,  heaven  receive  my  soule" : 

"The  rest  is  silence" — Shakespeare's  supreme  test  is  here. 

A  rapid  examination  of  the  first  Quarto  reveals  the  fol- 
lowing among  its  chief  divergences:^ — (i)  the  difference  in 
length;  2,143  lines  as  against  3,719  in  the  later  Quarto; 
(ii)  the  mutilation,  or  omission,  of  many  passages  "dis- 
tinguished by  that  blending  of  psychological  insight  with 
imagination  and  fancy,  which  is  the  highest  manifestation 


Preface  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

of  Shakespeare's  genius";  (iii)  absurd  misplacement  and 
maiming  of  lines;  distortion  of  words  and  phrases:  (iv) 
confusion  in  the  order  of  the  scenes;  (v)  difference  in 
characterization;  e.  g.  the  Queen's  avowed  innocence  ("But 
as  I  have  a  soul,  I  swear  by  heaven,  I  never  knew  of  this 
most  horrid  murder"),  and  her  active  adhesion  to  the  plots 
against  her  guilty  husband;  (vi)  this  latter  aspect  is 
brought  out  in  a  special  scene  between  Horatio  and  the 
Queen,  omitted  in  the  later  version;  (vii)  the  names  of 
some  of  the  characters  are  not  the  same  as  in  the  subse- 
quent editions ;  Corambis  and  Montana,  for  Polonius  and 
Reynaldo.  What,  then,  is  the  history  of  this  Quarto? 
In  the  first  place  it  is  certain  that  it  must  have  been 
printed  without  authority ;  in  all  probability  shorthand 
notes  taken  by  an  incompetent  stenographer  during  the  per- 
formance of  the  play  formed  the  basis  of  the  printer's 
"copy."  Thomas  Heywood  alludes  to  this  method  of  ob- 
taining plays  in  the  prologue  to  his  If  you  know  not  me, 
you  know  no  bodie: — 

"(This  did  throng  the  Seats,  the  Boxes,  and  the  Stage 
So  much,  that  some  by  Stenography  drew 
The  plot:  put  it  in  print:  (scarce  one  word  trew)." 

The  main  question  at  issue  is  the  relation  of  this  piratical 
version  to  Shakespeare's  work.  The  various  views  may 
be  divided  as  follows: — (i)  there  are  those  who  maintain 
that  it  is  an  imperfect  production  of  an  old  Hamlet  writ- 
ten by  Shakespeare  in  his  youth,  and  revised  by  him  in 
his  maturer  years;  (ii)  others  contend  that  both  the  First 
and  Second  Quartos  represent  the  same  version,  the  differ- 
ence between  the  two  editions  being  due  to  carelessness 
and  incompetence;  (iii)  a  third  class  holds,  very  strongly, 
that  the  First  Quarto  is  a  garbled  version  of  an  old-fash- 
ioned play  of  Hamlet,  written  by  some  other  dramatist,  and 
revised  to  a  certain  extent  by  Shakespeare  about  the  year 
160?  :  so  that  the  original  of  Quarto  1  represented  Shake- 
speare's Hamlet  in  an  intermediate  stage ;  in  Quarto  2  we 
have  for  the  first  time  tlie  complete  metamorphosis.     All  the 


PRINCE    OF   DENMARK  Preface 

evidence  seems  to  point  to  this  third  view  as  a  plausible  set- 
tlement of  the  problem ;  there  is  little  to  be  said  in  favor  of 
the  first  and  second  theories. 

THE    LOST    HAMLET 

There  is  no  doubt  that  a  play  on  the  subject  of  Hamlet 
existed  as  early  as  1589,  in  which  year  there  appeared 
Greene's  Menaphon,  with  a  prefatory  epistle  by  Thomas 
Nash,  containing  a  summary  review  of  contemporary  liter- 
ature. The  following  passage  occurs  in  his  "talk"  with 
"a  few  of  our  triviall  translators" : — 

"It  is  a  common  practice  now  a  dales  amongst  a  sort 
of  shifting  companions,  that  runne  through  ever}'  arte  and 
thrive  by  none  to  leave  the  trade  of  Noverint  (i.  e.  attor- 
ne})  whereto  they  were  borne,  and  busie  themselves  with 
the  endevours  of  art,  that  could  scarcelie  latinize  their 
neck  verse  if  they  should  have  neede ;  yet  English  Seneca 
read  by  candle-light  yeeldes  manie  good  sentences,  as 
Bloud  is  a  beggar,  and  so  forth :  and  if  you  intrcato  him 
faire  in  a  frostie  morning,  he  will  afoord  j^ou  whole  Ham- 
lets, I  should  say  Handfulls  of  tragical  speaches.  But  O 
grief!  Tempus  edax  rerum;  what  is  it  that  will  last  al- 
ways.'' The  sea  exhaled  by  drops  will  in  continuance  be 
drie ;  and  Senaca,  let  bloud  line  by  line,  and  page  by  page, 
at  length  must  needs  die  to  our  stage."  The  pla}'  alluded 
to  by  Nash  did  not  die  to  our  stage  till  the  end  of  the  cen- 
tury ;  in  Henslowe's  Diary  we  find  an  entr}' : — "9.  of  June 
1594.   .   .  .  R[eceive]d  at  hamlet,    viijs:" 

the  play  was  performed  by  the  Lord  Chamberlain's  men, 
the  company  to  which  Shakespeare  belonged. 

"[Hate  Virtue  is]  a  foul  lubber,"  wrote  Lodge  in  Wifs 
Miserie,  and  the  World's  Madness,  1596,  "and  looks  as  pale 
as  the  wisard  of  the  ghost,  which  cried  so  miserally  at  the 
theater,  like  an  oyster-wife,  Hamlet  revenged  ^ 

1  Several  other  allusions  occur  during  the  early  years  of  the  seven- 
teenth century,  evidently  to  the  older  Hamlet,  e.  g.  Dekker's  Satrio- 
mastix,  1602,  ("My  Name's  Hamlet  revenge");  Westward  Hoe,  1607 

xi 


Preface  TRAGEDY  OF  HAJNILET 

In  all  probability  Thomas  Kyd  was  the  author  of  the 
play  alluded  to  in  these  passages ;  his  probable  authorship  is 
borne  out  by  Nash's  subsequent  allusion  to  "the  Kidde  in 
zEsope's  fable,"  as  also  by  the  character  of  his  famous 
Spanish  Tragedy.^  Hamlet  and  The  Spanish  Tragedy  may 
well  be  described  as  twin-dramas ;  ^  they  are  "both  dramas 
of  venegeance;  the  ghost  of  the  victim  tells  his  story  in 
the  one  play  as  in  the  other ;  the  heroes  simulate  madness ; 
a  faithful  Horatio  figures  in  each ;  a  play-scene  brings 
about  the  catastrophe  in  The  Spanish  Tragedy,  even  as  it 
helps  forward  the  catastrophe  in  Hamlet;  in  both  plays 
Nemesis  involves  in  its  meshes  the  innocent  as  well  as  the 
guilty, — the  perpetrators  of  the  wrong  and  the  instruments 
of  vengeance.  To  this  same  class  of  drama  belongs  Titus 
Andronicus,  and  it  is  interesting  to  note  that  early  in  his 
career  Shakespeare  put  his  hand  to  a  Hamletian  tragedy. 
Nash's  reference  to  the  Senecan  character  of  the  lost  Hamr 

("Let  these  husbands  play  mad  Hamlet,  and  cry  revenge") ;  How- 
land's  The  Night  Raven,  1618  ("I  will  not  cry  Hamlet  Revenge"), 
etc.  There  is  a  comic  passage  in  The  Looking  Glass  for  London 
and  England,  written  by  Lodge  and  Greene,  probably  before  1589, 
which  strikes  me  as  a  burlesque  reminiscence  of  the  original  of 
Hamlet,  Act  I.  Sc.  li.  184-240;  Adam,  the  smith's  man,  exclaims 
thus  to  the  Clown: — "Alas,  sir,  your  father, — why,  sir,  methinks  1 
see  the  gentleman  still:  a  proper  youth  he  was,  faith,  aged  some 
forty  and  ten;  his  beard  rat's  colour,  half  black,  half  white;  his 
nose  was  in  the  highest  degree  of  noses,"  etc. 

1  The  Spanish  Tragedy  and  Kyd's  other  plays  are  printed  in 
Dodsley's  Old  Plays.  An  interesting  point  in  Kyd's  biography  (vide 
Diet.  Nat.  Biog.)  is  that  his  father  was  in  all  probability  a  sort  of 
Noverint. 

2  So  much  so  was  this  the  case  that  "young  Hamlet,"  and  "old 
Hieronimo,"  were  often  referred  to  together,  and  the  parts  were 
taken  by  the  same  actors,  cp.  Burbadge's  elegy: — 

"Young  Hamlet,  old  Hieronimo, 
King  Lelr,  the  grieved  Moore,  and  more  beside 
That  liv'd  in  him,  have  now  for  ever  died": 

Occasionally  the  two  plays  were,  I  think,  confused:  thus,  Armin  in  his 
Nest  of  Ninnies  (1608)  writes: — "There  arc,  as  Hamlet  saies,  things 
cakl  whips  in  store";  Hieronimo  certainly  says  so  in  the  most  fa- 
mous passage  of  The  Spaiush  Tragedy. 

xii 


PRINCE    OF    DENISIARK  Preface 

let  receives  considerable  confirmation  when  one  remembers 
that  K3^d  translated  into  English,  from  the  French,  Gar- 
nier's  Senecan  drama  entitled  Cornelia,  and  it  is  possible 
that  even  in  Shakespeare's  Hamlet  we  can  still  detect  the 
fossil  remains  of  Senecan  moralizations  which  figured  in 
the  older  play,  and  which  were  Kyd's  reminiscences  of 
Garnier.^ 

THE    GERMAN    HAMLET 

It  is  possible  that  although  the  pre-Shakespearean  Ham- 
let has  perished,  we  have  some  portion  of  the  play  pre- 
served in  a  German  MS.  version  bearing  the  date,  "Pretz, 
October  27,  1710,"  which  is  probably  a  late  and  modern- 
ized copy  of  a  much  older  manuscript.  The  play,  enti- 
tled "Der  Bestrafte  Brudermord  oder:  Pr'mz  Hamlet  aus 
Dannemark^'  (Fratricide  Punished,  or  Prince  Hamlet  of 
Denmark)  was  first  printed  in  the  year  1781,  and  has  been 
frequently  reprinted ;  the  text,  with  an  English  translation, 
is  given  in  Cohn's  fascinating  work,  "Shakespeare  in  Ger- 
many in  the  Sixteenth  and  Seventeenth  Centuries:  An  ac- 
count of  English  Actors  in  Germany  and  the  Netherlands, 
and  of  the  Plays  performed  by  them  during  the  same 
period"  (London,  1865).  The  "English  Comedians"  in 
all  probability  carried  their  play  to  Germany  towards  the 
end  of  the  XVI  Century,  when  a  rough  German  translation 
was  made;  but  the  earliest  record  of  a  perfomiance  of 
Hamlet  a  Prinz  in  Dennemarck,  by  "the  English  actors," 
belongs  to  the  year  1626.^ 

^  e.g.  A  thoroughly  Senecan  sentiment  is  the  Queen's 

"Thou  know' St  'tis  common;  all  that  lives  must  die. 
Passing  through  nature  to  eternity"; 

It  occurs  almost  verbatim  in  Cornelia. 

2  In  connection  with  the  subject  of  Hamlet  one  must  not  forget 
the  visit  of  Lord  Leicester's  servants  to  Denmark  in  1585;  Kenipe, 
Bryan,  and  Pope,  three  of  the  company,  subsequently  joined  the 
Chamberlain's  company,  and  were  actors  in  Shakespeare's  plays. 
Shakespeare's  remarkable  knowledge  of  Danish  manners  and  cus- 
toms may  have  been  derived  from  these  friends  of  his. 

xiii 


Preface  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

The  intrinsic  value  of  Fratricide  Punished  is  small  in- 
deed, but  two  points  of  historical  interest  are  note- 
worthy:— (i)  Polonius,  as  in  the  First  Quarto,  is  here  rep- 
resented by  Corambus,  and  (ii)  a  prologue  precedes  the 
play,  the  persons  represented  therein  being  Night,  Alecto, 
Thisiyhone,  Miegera.  A  strong  case  can,  I  think,  be  made 
out  for  the  view  that  this  thoroughly  Senecan  Prologue 
represents  a  fragment  of  the  pre-Shakespearean  play  to 
which  Nash  and  others  made  allusion :  herein  lies  the  chief 
merit  of  this  soulless  and  coarse  production. 

DATE    OF    COMPOSITION 

This  question  has  been  indirectly  touched  upon  in  the 
previous  paragraphs,  and  it  follows  from  what  has  been 
said  that  the  date  of  revision,  as  represented  by  the  Second 
Quarto,  may  be  fixed  at  about  1603,  while  the  First  Quarto, 
judging  by  the  entry  in  the  Stationers'  Books,  belongs  to 
about  1601 ;  at  all  events  a  version  of  Hamlet,  recognized 
as  Shakespeare's,  was  in  existence  before  1602.  It  is  sig- 
nificant that  the  play  is  not  mentioned  in  Meres'  Palladis 
Tamia,  1598,  In  the  matter  of  the  date  of  the  play  "the 
traveling  of  the  plaj-ers"  (Act  II,  sc.  ii,  353,  etc.)  is  of 
interest.  It  must  be  noted  that  we  have  three  different 
forms  of  the  passage  in  question: — (i)  the  reason  for  the 
"traveling"  in  Q.  1  is  the  popularity  of  a  Company  of 
Children;  (ii)  in  Q.  2  "their  inhibition  comes  by  the  means 
of  the  late  innovation";  (iii)  in  the  Folio  (the  reading  in 
the  text)  both  causes  (i)  and  (ii)  are  combined. 

Now  it  is  known  that  (i)  in  1601  Shakespeare's  Com- 
pany was  in  disgrace,  perhaps  because  of  its  share  in  the 
Essex  Conspiracy;  (ii)  that  during  this  year  the  Children 
of  the  Chapel  Royal  were  acting  at  Blackfriars ;  (iii)  that 
towards  the  end  of  the  year  the  Globe  Company  were  "trav- 
eling." Two  views  are  possible,  either  that  "inhibition" 
is  used  technically  for  "a  prohibition  of  theatrical  per- 
formances by  authority" ;  and  "innovation"  =  "the  polit- 
ical innovation,"  or  that  inhibition  =  "non-residence,"  and 

xiv 


PRINCE    OF   DENMARK  Preface 

"innovation"  refers  to  the  Company  of  Children  {tide 
Halhwell-Phinips'  Outlines  of  the  Life  of  Shakespeare; 
Fleay's  Chronicle  History  of  the  London  Stage). 

Over  and  above  these  points  of  evidence  in  fixing  the 
date  there  is  the  intimate  connection  of  Hamlet  and  Julius 
Ccesar, 

THE    SOURCE    OF    THE    STORY 

The  ultimate  source  of  the  plot  of  Hamlet  is  the  His- 
foria  Danica  of  Saxo  Grammaticus  (i.  e.  "the  Lettered"), 
Denmark's  first  writer  of  importance,  who  lived  at  the  close 
of  the  twelfth  century.^  Saxo's  Latinity  was  much  ad- 
mired, and  even  Erasmus  wondered  "how  a  Dane  at  that 
day  could  have  such  a  force  of  eloquence."  Epitomes  in 
Latin  and  Low-German  were  made  during  the  fifteenth  cen- 
tury, and  Saxo's  materials  were  utilized  in  various  ways, 
until  at  length  the  first  printed  edition  appeared  in  the 
year  1514;  a  second  was  issued  in  1534,  and  a  third  in 
1576.  The  tale  of  Hamlet,  contained  in  the  third  and 
fourth  books,  is  certainly  the  most  striking  of  all  Saxo's 
mythical  hero-stories,  quite  apart  from  its  Shakespearean 
interest,  and  Goethe,  recognizing  its  dramatic  possibilities, 
thought  of  treating  the  subject  dramatically  on  the  basis 
of  Saxo's  narrative.  It  is  noteworthy  that  already  in 
the  fifteenth  century  the  stor}'^  was  well  known  throughout 
the  North,  "trolled  far  and  wide  in  popular  song" ;  but  its 
connection  with  the  English  drama  was  due  to  the  French 
version  given  in  Belief orest's  Histoires  Tragiques;  the 
Hamlet  story  first  appeared  in  the  fifth  volume,  published 
in  1570,  and  again  in  1581,  1582,  1591,  etc.  A  black- 
letter  English   rendering  is   extant,  but  the   date   of  the 

1  There  is  an  allusion  to  Hamlet  in  Icelandic  literature  some  two 
hundred  years  before  Saxo;  and  to  this  day  "Amlothe"  (i.  e.  Hamlet) 
is  synonymous  with  "fool"  among  the  folk  there.  The  history  of 
Hamlet  in  Iceland  is  of  great  interest  (vide  the  Ambales-saga, 
edited  by  the  present  writer,  published  in  1898  by  David  Nutt). 
According  to  Zinzow  and  others  the  Saga  is  originally  a  nature- 
myth  (vide  Die  Hamletsage). 

XV 


Preface  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

unique  copy  is  1608,  and  in  certain  points  shows  the  influ- 
ence of  the  play.  There  is  no  evidence  that  an  earher 
English  version  existed.  The  author  of  the  pre-Shake- 
spearean  Hamlet,  and  Shakespeare  too,  may  well  have 
read  the  story  in  Belief o rest's  Histoires}  Few  studies  in 
literary  origins  are  more  instructive  than  to  examine  how 
the  "rich  barbarous  tale"  of  the  Danish  historian  has 
become  transformed  into  the  great  soul-tragedy  of  mod- 
ern literature.  In  Saxo's  Amleth  we  have  at  least  the 
frame-work  of  Shakespeare's  Hamlet: — the  murder  of 
the  father  by  a  jealous  uncle;  the  mother's  incestuous  mar- 
riage with  the  murderer;  the  son's  feigned  madness  in 
order  to  execute  revenge ;  there  are  the  vague  originals  of 
Ophelia  and  Polonius ;  the  meeting  of  mother  and  son ;  the 
voyage  to  England ;  all  these  familiar  elements  are  found 
in  the  old  tale.  But  the  ghost,  the  play-scene,  and  the 
culmination  of  the  play  in  the  death  of  the  hero  as  well  as 
of  the  objects  of  his  revenge,  these  are  elements  which  be- 
long essentially  to  the  machinery  of  the  Elizabethan  Drama 
of  vengeance.  It  is  of  course  unnecessary  to  dwell  on 
the  subtler  distinction  between  the  easily  understood  \4w- 
leth  and  "the  eternal  problem"  of  Hamlet.^  Taine  has 
said  that  the  Elizabethan  Renaissance  was  a  Renaissance 
of  the  Saxon  genius ;  from  the  point  of  view  it  is  signifi- 
cant that  its  crowning  glory  should  be  the  presentment  of 
a  typical  Northern  hero, — an  embodiment  of  the  Northern 
character; 

*&ark  an^  true  an^  tenber  Is  tbe  IRortb.** 

iTo  Mr.  Oliver  Elton,  Prof.  York  Powell,  and  the  Folk-Lore 
Society,  we  owe  the  first  English  rendering  /of  the  mythical  portion 
of  Saxo's  work,  and  a  valuable  study  of  Saxo's  sources  (published 
by  David  Nutt,  1894). 

2  A  rhumS  of  Hamlet  criticism  is  given  in  Vol.  II.  of  Furness' 
noble  edition  of  the  play  (London  and  Philadelphia,  1877). 


XVI 


INTRODUCTION 

By  Henry  Norman  Hudsonj  A.M. 

The  story  on  which  Shakespeare  founded  The  Tragedy 
of  Hamlet,  Prince  of  Denviark,  was  told  by  Saxo  Gram- 
maticus,  the  Danish  historian,  whose  work  was  first  printed 
in  1514,  though  written  as  early  as  1204.  The  incidents 
as  related  by  him  were  borrowed  by  Belleforest,  and  set 
forth  in  his  Histoires  Tragiques,  1564.  It  was  probably 
through  the  French  version  of  Belleforest  that  the  tale 
first  found  its  way  to  the  English  stage.  The  only  Eng- 
lish translation  that  has  come  down  to  us  was  printed  in 
1608 ;  and  of  this  only  a  single  copy  is  known  to  have  sur- 
vived. The  edition  of  1608  was  most  likely  a  reprint; 
but,  if  so,  we  have  no  means  of  ascertaining  when  it  was 
first  printed :  Mr.  Collier  thinks  there  can  be  no  doubt  that 
it  originally  came  from  the  press  considerably  before  1600. 
The  only  known  copy  is  preserved  among  Capell's  books 
in  the  library  of  Trinity  College,  Cambridge,  and  has  been 
lately  republished  by  Collier  in  his  Shakespeare^ s  Library. 
It  is  entitled  The  History  of  Hamhlet. 

As  there  told,  the  story  is,  both  in  matter  and  style,  un- 
couth and  barbarous  in  the  last  degree ;  a  savage,  shock- 
ing tale  of  lust  and  murder,  unredeemed  by  a  single  touch 
of  art  or  fancy  in  the  narrator.  Perhaps  there  is  nothing 
of  the  Poet's  achieving  more  wonderful  than  that  he 
should  have  reared  so  superb  a  dramatic  structure  out  of 
materials  so  scanty  and  so  revolting.  The  scene  of  the 
incidents  is  laid  before  the  introduction  of  Christianity 
into  Denmark,  and  when  the  Danish  power  held  sway  in 
England:  further  than  this,  the  time  is  not  specified.     So 


Introduction  TRAGEDY  OF  HA:MLET 

much  of  the  story  as  was  made  use  of  for  the  drama  is  soon 
told. 

Roderick,  king  of  Denmark,  divided  his  kingdom  into 
provinces,  and  placed  governors  in  them.  Among  these 
were  two  valiant  and  warlike  brothers,  Horvendile  and 
Fengon.  The  greatest  honor  that  men  of  noble  birth 
could  at  that  time  win,  was  by  exercising  the  art  of  piracy 
on  the  seas ;  wherein  Horvendile  surpassed  all  others. 
Collcre,  king  of  Norway,  was  so  wrought  upon  by  his 
fame,  that  he  challenged  him  to  fight  body  to  body ;  and 
the  challenge  was  accepted  on  condition  that  the  van- 
quished should  lose  all  the  riches  he  had  in  his  ship,  and 
the  vanquisher  should  cause  his  body  to  be  honorably 
buried.  Cohere  was  slain ;  and  Horvendile,  after  making 
great  havoc  in  Norwaj'^,  returned  home  with  a  mass  of 
treasure,  most  of  which  he  sent  to  King  Roderick,  who 
thereupon  gave  him  his  daughter  Geruth  in  marriage.  Of 
this  marriage  proceeded  Hamblet,  the  hero  of  the  tale. 

All  this  so  provoked  the  envy  of  Fengon,  that  he  deter- 
mined to  kill  his  brother.  So,  having  secretly  assembled 
certain  men,  when  Horvendile  was  at  a  banquet  with  his 
friends,  he  suddenly  set  upon  him  and  slew  him ;  but  man- 
aged his  treachery  with  so  much  cunning  that  no  man 
suspected  him.  Before  doing  this,  he  had  corrupted  his 
brother's  wife,  and  was  afterwards  married  to  her.  Young 
Hamblet,  thinking  that  he  was  likely  to  fare  no  better  than 
his  father  had  done,  went  to  feigning  himself  mad,  and 
made  as  if  he  had  utterly  lost  his  wits ;  wherein  he  used  such 
craft  that  he  became  an  object  of  ridicule  to  the  satellites 
of  the  court.  Many  of  his  actions,  however,  were  so 
shrewd,  and  his  answers  were  often  so  fit,  that  men  of  a 
deeper  reach  began  to  suspect  somewhat,  thinking  that  be- 
neath his  folly  there  lay  hid  a  sharp  and  pregnant  spirit. 
So  they  counselled  the  king  to  try  measures  for  discover- 
ing his  meaning.  The  plan  hit  upon  for  entrapping  him 
was,  to  leave  him  with  some  beautiful  woman  in  a  secret 
place,  where  she  could  use  her  art  upon  him.  To  this  end 
they  led  him  out  into  the  woods,  and  arranged  that  the 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  introduction 

woman  should  there  meet  with  him.  One  of  the  men,  how- 
ever, who  was  a  friend  of  the  Prince,  warned  him,  by  cer- 
tain signs,  of  the  danger  that  was  threatening  him :  so  he 
escaped  that  treachery. 

Among  the  king's  friends  there  was  one  who  more  than 
all  the  rest  suspected  Hamblet's  madness  to  be  feigned ; 
and  he  counselled  the  king  to  use  some  more  subtle  and 
crafty  means  for  discovering  his  purpose.  His  device 
was,  that  the  king  should  make  as  though  he  were  going 
out  on  a  long  hunting  excursion ;  and  that,  meanwhile, 
Hamblet  should  be  shut  up  alone  in  a  chamber  with  his 
mother,  some  one  being  hidden  behind  the  hangings  to  hear 
their  speeches.  It  was  thought  that,  if  there  were  any 
craft  in  the  Prince,  he  would  easily  discover  it  to  his 
mother,  not  fearing  that  she  would  make  known  his  secret 
intent.  So,  the  plot  being  duly  arranged,  the  counsellor 
went  into  the  chamber  secretly  and  hid  himself  behind  the 
arras,  not  long  before  the  queen  and  Hamblet  came 
thither.  But  the  Pi'ince,  suspecting  some  treacherous 
practice,  kept  up  his  counterfeit  of  madness,  and  went  to 
beating  with  his  arms,  as  cocks  use  to  strike  with  their 
wings,  upon  the  hangings:  feeling  something  stir  under 
them,  he  cried,  "A  rat,  a  rat !"  and  thrust  his  sword  into 
them ;  which  done,  he  pulled  the  counseller  out  half  dead, 
and  made  an  end  of  him. 

Hamblet  then  has  a  long  interview  with  his  mother,  who 
weeps  and  torments  herself,  being  sore  grieved  to  see  her 
only  child  made  a  mere  mockery.  He  lays  before  her  the 
wickedness  of  her  life  and  the  crimes  of  her  husband,  and 
also  lets  her  into  the  secret  of  his  madness  being  feigned. 
"Behold,"  says  he,  "into  what  distress  I  am  fallen,  and  to 
what  mischief  your  over-great  lightness  and  want  of  wis- 
dom have  induced  me,  that  I  am  constrained  to  pla}^  the 
madman  to  save  my  life,  instead  of  practising  arms,  fol- 
lowing adventures,  and  seeking  to  make  myself  known  as 
the  true  heir  of  the  valiant  and  virtuous  Horvendile.  The 
gestures  of  a  fool  are  fit  for  me,  to  the  end  that,  guiding 
myself   wisely   therein,    I   may   preserve   my    life   for   the 


Introduction  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

Danes,  and  the  memory  of  my  deceased  father;  for  the 
desire  of  revenging  his  death  is  so  engraven  in  my  heart, 
that,  if  I  die  not  shortly,  I  hope  to  take  so  great  vengeance 
that  these  countries  shall  forever  speak  thereof.  Never- 
theless, I  must  stay  my  time  and  occasion,  lest  by  making 
over-great  haste  I  be  the  cause  of  mine  own  ruin  and  over- 
throw. To  conclude,  weep  not,  madam,  to  see  my  folly, 
but  rather  sigh  and  lament  your  own  offence;  for  we  are 
not  to  sorrow  and  grieve  at  other  men's  vices,  but  for  our 
own  misdeeds  and  great  follies." 

The  interview  ends  in  an  agreement  of  mutual  confidence 
between  Hamblet  and  his  mother;  all  her  anger  at  his 
sharp  reproofs  being  forgotten  in  the  joy  she  conceives, 
to  behold  the  gallant  spirit  of  her  son,  and  to  think  what 
she  might  hope  from  his  policy  and  wisdom.  She  prom- 
ises to  keep  his  secret  faithfully,  and  to  aid  him  all  she 
can  in  his  purpose  of  revenge ;  swearing  to  him  that  she 
had  often  hindered  the  shortening  of  his  life,  and  that  she 
had  never  consented  to  the  murder  of  his  father. 

Fengon's  next  device  was,  to  send  Hamblet  into  Eng- 
land, with  secret  letters  to  have  him  there  put  to  death. 
Hamblet,  again  suspecting  mischief,  comes  to  some  speech 
with  his  mother,  and  desires  her  not  to  make  any  show  of 
grief  at  his  departure,  but  rather  to  counterfeit  gladness 
at  being  rid  of  his  presence.  He  also  counsels  her  to  cele- 
brate his  funeral  at  the  end  of  a  year,  and  assures  her  that 
she  shall  then  see  him  return  from  his  voyage.  Two  of 
Fengon's  ministers  being  sent  along  with  him  with  secret 
letters  to  the  king  of  England,  when  they  were  at  sea,  the 
Prince,  his  companions  being  asleep,  read  their  commis- 
sion, and  substituted  for  it  one  requiring  the  messengers  to 
be  hung.  After  this  was  done,  he  returned  to  Denmark, 
and  arrived  the  very  day  when  the  Danes  were  celebrating 
his  funeral,  supposing  him  to  be  dead.  Fengon  and  his 
courtiers  were  then  at  their  banquet,  and  Hamblet's  ar- 
rival provoked  them  the  more  to  drink  and  carouse ;  where- 
in Hamblet  encouraged  them,  himself  acting  as  butler,  and 
keeping  them  sup})lied  with  liquor,  until  they  were  all  laid 

XX 


PRINCE    OF   DENMARK  Introduction 

drunk  on  the  floor.  When  they  were  all  fast  asleep,  he 
caused  the  hangings  of  the  room  to  fall  down  and  cover 
them  ;  then,  having  nailed  the  edges  fast  to  the  floor  so 
that  none  could  escape,  he  set  fire  to  the  hall,  and  all  were 
burned  to  death.  Fengon  having  previously  withdrawn  to 
his  chamber,  Hamblet  then  went  to  him,  and,  after  telling 
him  what  he  had  done,  cut  off"  his  head  with  a  sword. 

The  next  day,  Hamblet  makes  an  oration  to  the  Danes, 
laying  open  to  them  his  uncle's  treachery,  and  what  him- 
self has  done  in  revenge  of  his  father's  death ;  whereupon 
he  is  unanimously  elected  king.  After  his  coronation,  he 
goes  to  England  again.  Finding  that  the  king  of  Eng- 
land has  a  plot  for  putting  him  to  death,  he  manages  to 
kill  him,  and  returns  to  Denmark  with  two  wives.  He  is 
afterwards  assailed  by  his  uncle  Wiglerus,  and  finally  be- 
trayed to  death  by  one  of  his  English  wives  named  Herme- 
trude,  who  then  marries  Wiglerus. 

There  is,  besides,  an  episodical  passage  in  the  tale,  from 
which  the  Poet  probably  took  some  hints  towards  the  part 
of  his  hero,  especially  his  melancholy  mood,  and  his  sus- 
picion that  "the  spirit  he  has  seen  may  be  a  devil" :  "In 
those  daj's,  the  north  parts  of  the  world,  living  then  under 
Satan's  laws,  were  full  of  enchanters,  so  that  there  was 
not  any  young  gentleman  that  knew  not  something  therein 
sufficient  to  serve  his  turn,  if  need  required ;  and  so  Hamb- 
let, while  his  father  lived,  had  been  instructed  in  that 
devlish  art,  whereby  the  wicked  spirit  abuseth  mankind, 
and  advertiseth  them,  as  he  can,  of  things  past.  It  touch- 
eth  not  the  matter  herein  to  discover  the  parts  of  divina- 
tion in  man,  and  whether  this  Prince,  by  reason  of  his  over- 
great  melancholy,  had  received  those  impressions,  divin- 
ing that  which  never  any  had  before  declared;  like  such 
as  are  saturnists  by  complexion,  who  oftentimes  speak  of 
things  which,  their  fury  ceasing,  they  can  hardly  under- 
stand." It  is  hardly  needful  to  add,  that  Shakespeare 
makes  his  persons  Christians,  giving  them  the  sentiments 
and  manners  of  a  much  later  period  than  they  have  in  the 
tale ;  though  he  still  places  the  scene  at  a  time  when  Eng- 

xxi 


Introduction  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

land  paid  some  sort  of  homnge  to  the  Danish  crown,  which 
was  before  the  Norman  conquest. 

The  earhest  edition  of  the  tragedy,  in  its  finished  state, 
was  a  quarto  pamphlet  of  fifty-one  leaves,  the  title-page 
reading  thus :  ''The  Tragical  History  of  Hamlet,  Prince 
of  Denmark:  By  William  Shakespeare.  Newly  imprinted 
and  enlarged  to  almost  as  much  again  as  it  was,  according 
to  the  true  and  perfect  copy.  At  London:  Printed  by 
J.  R.  for  N.  L.,  and  are  to  he  sold  at  his  shop  under  St. 
Dunstan's  Church,  in  Fleet-street.  160 J/.."  The  same 
text  was  reissued  in  the  same  form  in  1605,  and  again  in 
1611 ;  besides  an  undated  edition,  which  is  commonly  re- 
ferred to  1607,  as  it  was  entered  at  the  Stationers'  in  the 
fall  of  that  year.  In  the  folio  of  1623,  it  stands  the 
eighth  of  the  tragedies,  and  is  without  any  marking  of  the 
Acts  and  scenes  save  in  the  first  two  Acts.  The  folio  also 
omits  several  passages  that  are  among  the  best  in  the  play, 
and  some  of  them  highly  important  to  the  right  under- 
standing of  the  hero's  character.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
folio  has  a  few  short  passages,  and  here  and  there  a  line 
or  two,  that  are  not  in  the  quartos.  On  the  whole,  the 
quartos  give  the  play  considerably  longer  than  the  folio ; 
the  latter  having  been  most  likely  printed  from  a  play- 
house copy,  which  had  been  shortened,  in  some  cases  not 
very  judiciously,  for  the  greater  convenience  of  repre- 
sentation. 

From  the  words,  "enlarged  to  almost  as  much  again  as 
it  was,"  in  the  title-page  of  1604,  it  was  for  a  long  time 
conjectured  that  the  play  had  been  printed  before.  At 
length,  in  1825,  a  single  copy  of  an  earlier  edition  was 
discovered,  and  the  text  accurately  reprinted,  with  the  fol- 
lowing title-page:  "The  Tragical  History  of  Hamlet, 
Prince  of  Denmark:  By  William  Shakespeare.  As  it  hath 
been  divers  times  acted  by  his  Highness^  Servants,  in  the 
city  of  London;  as  also  in  the  txvo  Universities  of  Cam- 
bridge and  Oxford,  and  elsewhere.  At  London:  Printed 
for  N.  L.  and  John  Trundell.  1603."  There  is  no  doubt 
that  this  edition  was  piratical:  it  gives  the  play  but  about 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  introduction 

half  as  long  as  the  later  quartos ;  and  carries  in  its  face 
abundant  evidence  of  having  been  greatly  marred  and  dis- 
figured in  the  niaking-up. 

As  to  the  methods  used  in  getting  uf)  the  edition  of 
1603,  a  careful  examination  of  the  text  has  satisfied  us 
tl.at  they  were  much,the  same  as  appear  to  have  been  made 
use  of  in  the  quarto  issues  of  King  Henry  V,  and  The 
Merry  Wives  of  Windsor.  From  divers  minute  particu- 
lars which  cannot  be  specified  without  over  much  of  detail, 
it  seems  very  evident  that  the  printing  was  done,  for  the 
most  part,  from  rude  reports  taken  at  the  theater  dur- 
ing representation,  with,  perhaps,  some  subsequent  eking 
out  and  patching  up  from  memor3\  There  are  indeed  a 
feyv  passages  that  seem  to  be  given  with  much  purity  and 
completeness ;  they  have  an  integrity  of  sense  and  lan- 
guage, that  argues  a  faithful  transcript ;  as,  for  instance, 
the  speech  of  Voltimand  in  Act  II,  sc.  ii,  which  scarcely 
differs  at  all  from  the  speech  as  we  have  it:  but  there  is 
barely  enough  of  this  to  serve  as  an  exception  to  the  rule. 
As  to  the  other  parts,  the  garbled  and  dislocated  state  of  the 
text,  where  we  often  have  the  first  of  a  sentence  without  the 
last,  or  the  last  without  the  first,  or  the  first  and  last  with- 
out the  middle ;  the  constant  lameness  of  the  verse  where 
verse  was  meant,  and  the  bungling  attempts  to  print  prose 
so  as  to  look  like  verse ; — all  this  proves  beyond  question, 
that  the  quarto  of  1603  was  by  no  means  a  faithful  tran- 
script of  the  play  as  it  then  stood;  and  the  imperfectness 
is  of  just  that  kind  and  degree  which  would  naturally  ad- 
here to  the  work  of  a  slovenly  or  incompetent  reporter. 

On  the  other  hand,  it  is  equally  clear,  that  at  the  time 
that  copy  was  taken  the  play  must  have  been  very  different 
from  what  it  afterwards  became.  Polonius  is  there  called 
Corambis,  and  his  servant,  Montano.  Divers  scenes  and 
passages,  some  of  them  such  as  a  reporter  would  have  been 
least  likely  to  omit,  are  there  wanting  altogether.  The 
Queen  is  there  represented  as  concerting  and  activel}'^  co- 
operating with  Hamlet  against  the  King's  life ;  and  she 
has  an  interview  of  considerable  length  with  Horatio,  who 
^  Exiii 


Introduction  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

informs  her  of  Hamlet's  escape  from  the  ship  bound  for 
England,  and  of  his  safe  arrival  in  Denmark ;  of  which 
scene  the  later  issues  have  no  traces  whatsoever.  All  this 
fully  ascertains  that  the  play  must  have  undergone  a  thor- 
ough revisal  after  the  making  up  of  the  copy  from  which 
the  first  quarto  was  printed.  But,  what  is  not  a  little 
remarkable,  some  of  the  passages  met  with  in  the  folio,  but 
not  in  the  enlarged  quartos,  are  found  in  the  quarto  of 
1603 ;  which  shows  that  they  were  omitted  in  the  later 
quartos,  and  not  added  afterwards. 

With  such  and  so  many  copies  before  us,  it  may  well  be 
asked,  where  the  true  text  of  Hamlet  is  to  be  found.  The 
quarto  of  1603,  though  furnishing  valuable  aid  in  divers 
cases,  is  not  of  any  real  authority :  this  is  clear  enough 
from  what  has  already  been  said  about  it.  On  the  other 
hand,  it  can  hardly  be  questioned  that  the  issue  of  1604* 
was  as  authentic  and  as  well  authorized,  as  any  that  were 
made  of  Shakespeare's  plays  while  he  was  living.  We 
therefore  take  this  as  our  main  standard  of  the  text,  retain- 
ing, however,  all  the  additional  passages  found  in  the  folio 
of  1623.  Moreover,  the  folio  has  many  important 
changes  and  corrections  which  no  reasonable  editor  would 
make  any  question  of  adopting.  Mr.  Knight  indeed,  who, 
after  the  true  style  of  Knight-errantry,  everywhere  gives 
himself  up  to  an  almost  unreserved  championship  of  the 
folio,  takes  that  as  the  supreme  authority.  But  in  this 
case,  as  usual,  his  zeal  betrays  him  into  something  of  un- 
fairness: for  wherever  he  prefers  a  folio  reading  (and 
some  of  his  preferences  are  odd  enough),  he  carefully  notes 
it;  but  in  divers  cases,  where  the  quarto  readings  are  so 
clearly  preferable  that  he  dare  not  reject  them,  we  have 
caught  him  adopting  them  without  making  any  note  of 
them. 

The  next  question  to  be  considered  is,  at  what  time  was 
the  Tragedy  of  Hamlet  originally  written  ?  On  this  point 
we  find  it  extremely  difficult  to  form  a  clear  judgment. 
Thus  much,  however,  is  quite  certain,  that  either  this  play 
was  one  of  the  Poet's  very  earliest  productions,  or  else  there 

xxiv 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  introduction 

was  another  play  on  the  same  subject.  This  certainty 
rests  on  a  passage  in  an  Epistle  by  Thomas  Nash,  pre- 
fixed to  Greene's  Arcadia:  "It  is  a  common  practice  now- 
a-days,  among  a  sort  of  shifting  companions  that  run 
through  every  art  and  thrive  by  none,  to  leave  the  trade  of 
Novcrint  whereto  they  were  born,  and  busy  themselves  with 
the  endeavors  of  art,  that  could  scarcely  latinize  their  neck- 
verse,  if  they  should  have  need ;  yet  English  Seneca,  read 
by  candle-light,  yields  many  good  sentences,  as  'Blood  is 
a  beggar,'  and  so  forth ;  and,  if  you  entreat  him  fair  in 
a  frosty  morning,  he  will  afford  you  whole  Hamlets,  I 
should  say  handfuls,  of  tragical  speeches."  The  words, 
*'trade  of  Noverint,"  show  that  this  squib  was  pointed  at 
some  writer  of  Hamlet,  who  had  been  known  as  an  appren- 
tice in  the  law ;  and  Shakespeare's  remarkable  fondness  for 
legal  terms  and  allusions  naturally  suggests  him  as  the 
person  referred  to.  On  the  other  hand,  Nash's  Epistle  was 
written  certainly  as  early  as  1589,  probably  two  years 
earlier,  though  this  has  been  disputed.  In  1589  Shake- 
speare was  in  his  tAventy-sixth  year,  and  his  name  stood 
the  twelfth  in  a  list  of  sixteen,  as  a  sharer  in  the  Black- 
friars  play-house.  The  chief  difficulty  lies  in  believing 
that  he  could  have  been  known  so  early  as  the  author  of 
a  tragedy  having  Hamlet  for  its  hero ;  but  this  difficulty 
is  much  reduced  by  the  circumstance,  that  we  have  no 
knowledge  how  often  or  how  much  he  may  have  improved 
a  piece  of  that  kind  even  before  the  copy  of  1603  was 
made  up. 

Again:  It  appears  from  Henslowe's  accounts  that  a 
play  of  Hamlet  was  performed  in  the  theater  at  Newing- 
ton  Butts  on  June  9,  1594.  At  this  time,  "my  lord  ad- 
mirell  men  and  my  lord  chamberlen  men"  were  playing  to- 
gether at  that  theater ;  the  latter  of  whom  was  the  com- 
pany to  which  Shakespeare  belonged.  At  the  perform- 
ance of  Hamlet,  Henslowe  sets  down  nine  shillings  as  his 
share  of  the  receipts ;  whereas  in  case  of  new  plays  he  com- 
monly received  a  much  larger  sum.  Besides,  the  item  in 
question  is  witliout  the  mark  which  the  manager  usually 

XXV 


Introduction  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

prefixed  in  case  of  a  new  play ;  so  that  we  may  conclude 
the  Flamlet  of  159-1  had  at  that  time  lost  the  feature  of 
novelt3\  The  question  is,  whether  the  Hamlet  thus  per- 
formed was  Shakespeare's?  That  it  was  so,  might  natur- 
ally be  inferred  from  the  fact  that  the  Lord  Chamberlain's 
men  were  then  playing  there ;  besides,  it  has  at  least  some 
probability,  in  that  on  the  11th  of  the  same  month  Hens- 
lowe  notes  The  Taming'  of  a  Shrew  as  having  been  per- 
formed at  the  same  place.  Whether  this  latter  were  Shake- 
speare's play,  is  sufficiently  considered  in  our  Introduction 
to  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew. 

The  next  particular,  bearing  upon  the  subject,  is  from 
a  tract  by  Thomas  Lodge,  printed  in  1596,  and  entitled 
Wifs  Misery,  or  The  World's  Madness,  discovering  the 
incarnate  Devils  of  the  Age;  where  one  of  the  devils  is 
said  to  be  "a  foul  lubber,  and  looks  as  pale  as  the  vizard 
of  the  Ghost,  who  cried  so  miserably  at  the  theatre,  Ham- 
let, revenge."  All  these  three  notices  are  regarded  by 
JMalone  and  some  others  as  referring  to  another  play  of 
Hamlet,  which  they  suppose  to  have  been  written  by 
Thomas  Kyd ;  though  their  only  reason  for  thinking  there 
was  such  another  play,  is  the  alleged  improbability  of  the 
Poet's  having  so  early  written  on  that  subject. 

It  is  to  be  observed,  further,  that  a  copy  of  Speight's 
Chaucer  once  owned  by  Gabriel  Harvey,  and  having  his 
name  written  in  it,  together  with  the  date  of  1598,  has, 
among  others,  the  following  manuscript  note :  "The 
3'ounger  sort-  take  much  delight  in  Shakespeare's  Venus 
and  Adonis;  but  his  Lucrece,  and  his  Tragedy  of  Hamlet, 
Prince  of  Denmark,  have  it  in  them  to  please  the  wiser 
sort."  This,  however,  does  not  seem  to  infer  any  thing 
with  certainty  as  to  time ;  since  the  name  and  date  may 
have  been  written  when  Harvey  purchased  the  book,  and 
the  note  at  some  later  period. 

The  only  other  contemporary  notice  to  be  quoted  of 
the  play,  is  an  entry  at  the  Stationers'  by  James  Roberts, 
on  July  26,  1602:  "  "A  Book,— The  Revenge  of  Hamlet, 
Prince  of  Denmark,  as  it  rcas  lately  acted  by  the  Lord, 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  introduction 

Chamberlain  his  Servants."  As  the  quarto  of  1604-  was 
printed  hy  James  Roberts,  we  may  reasonably  conclude 
that  this  entry  refers  to  the  "enlarged"  form  of  the  play. 
Why  the  publication  was  not  made  till  two  years  later,  is 
beyond  our  reach :  perhaps  it  was  because  no  copy  could 
be  obtained  for  the  press,  until  the  maimed  and  stolen  issue 
of  1603  had  rendered  it  necessary  to  put  forth  an  edition 
in  self-defense,  "according  to  the  true  and  perfect  copy." 
In  the  spring  of  1603  "the  Lord  Chamberlain's  Servants" 
became  "His  Majesty's  Servants" ;  or,  as  they  are  called  in 
the  title-page  of  1603,  "His  Highness'  Servants." 

A  piece  of  internal  evidence  fixes  the  date  of  the  en- 
larged Hamlet  soon  after  June  22,  1600.  It  is  the  reason 
assigned  by  Rosencrantz,  in  Act  II,  sc.  ii,  why  the  play- 
ers have  left  the  city  and  gone  to  traveling:  "I  think 
their  inhibition  comes  by  means  of  the  late  innovation." 
The  passage  just  quoted  is  not  in  the  copy  of  1603:  a  dif- 
ferent reason  is  there  assigned  why  the  players  travel : 
"Novelty  carries  it  away ;  for  the  principal  public  audi- 
ence that  came  to  them  are  turned  to  private  plays,  and  the 
humour  of  children." 

Plays  were  acted  in  private  by  the  choir-boys  of  the 
Chapel  Royal  and  of  St.  Paul's  before  1590,  several  of 
Lyly's  pieces  being  used  in  that  way.  It  appears  that  in 
1591  these  juvenile  perfomiances  had  been  suppressed;  as 
in  the  printer's  address  prefixed  to  Lyly's  Endymion,  which 
was  published  that  year,  we  are  told  that,  "since  the  plays 
in  Paul's  were  dissolved,  there  are  certain  comedies  come 
to  my  hand."  Nash,  in  his  Hove  with  You  to  Saffron 
Waldon,  published  in  1596,  expresses  a  wish  to  see  the 
"plays  at  Paul's  up  again" ;  which  infers  that  at  that 
time  the  interdict  was  still  in  force.  In  1600,  however,  we 
find  that  the  interdict  had  been  taken  off,  a  play  attributed 
to  Lyly  being  that  3'ear  "acted  by  the  children  of  Paul's." 
From  this  time  forward  these  juvenile  performances  ap- 
pear to  have  been  kept  up,  both  in  private  and  in  public, 
until  1612,  when,  on  account  of  the  abuses  attending  them, 
they  were  again  suppressed. 

xxvii 


Introduction  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

It  would  seem,  then,  that  the  reason  assigned  in  the  text 
of  1603  refers  to  a  period  when  the  acting  of  children  was 
only  in  private,  and  was  regarded  as  a  novelty;  whereas  at 
the  time  of  the  later  text  the  qualities  of  novelty  and  pri- 
vacy had  been  removed.  And  it  appears  not  improbable, 
that  the  taking-off  of  the  interdict  before  1600,  and  the 
consequent  revival  of  plays  by  children,  was  "the  late  in- 
novation" by  means  of  which  the  "inhibition"  had  been 
brought  about.  Howbeit,  so  far  as  regards  the  date  of 
the  older  text,  the  argument  is  by  no  means  conclusive, 
and  we  are  not  for  laying  any  very  marked  stress  upon  it ; 
but  it  seems,  at  all  events,  worth  considering.  Its  bearing 
as  to  the  time  of  the  later  text  is  obvious  enough,  and  will 
hardly  be  questioned. 

Knight  justly  remarks,  that  the  mention  of  Termagant 
and  Herod,  which  occurs  in  the  quarto  of  1603,  refers  to 
a  time  when  those  personages  trod  the  stage  in  pageants 
and  mysteries ;  and  that  the  directions  to  the  players,  as 
given  in  the  older  text,  point  to  the  customs  and  conduct 
of  the  stage,  as  it  was  before  Shakespeare  had,  by  his  ex- 
ample and  influence,  raised  and  reformed  it.  The  follow- 
ing passage  from  the  first  copy  will  show  what  we  mean: 
"And  then  you  have  some  again,  that  keeps  one  suit  of 
jests,  as  a  man  is  known  by  one  suit  of  apparel;  and 
gentlemen  quote  his  jests  down  in  their  tables  before  they 
come  to  the  play,  as  thus :  'Cannot  you  stay  till  I  eat 
my  porridge?'  and,  'You  owe  me  a  quarter's  wages';  and, 
'My  coat  wants  a  cullison' ;  and,  'Your  beer  is  sour' ;  and, 
blabbering  with  his  lips,  and  thus  keeping  in  his  cinque- 
a-pace  of  jests,  when,  God  knows,  the  warm  clown  cannot 
make  a  jest  unless  by  chance,  as  the  blind  man  catcheth 
a  hare."  From  the  absence  of  all  this  in  the  enlarged 
copy,  we  should  naturally  conclude  that  the  evil  referred 
to  had  at  that  time  been  done  away,  or  at  least  much  di- 
minished. And  indeed  a  comparison  of  the  two  texts  in 
this  part  of  the  play  will  satisfy  any  one,  we  think,  that, 
during  the  interval  between  them,  the  stage  had  been 
greatly   elevated   and    improved:   divers   bad   customs,   no 


PRINCE   OF   DENMARK  Introduction 

doubt,  had  been  "reformed  indifferently" ;  so  that  the  point 
still  remaining  Avas,  to  "reform  them  altogether." 

As  to  the  general  character  of  the  additions  in  the  en- 
larged Hamlet,  it  is  to  be  noted  that  these  are  mostly  in 
the  contemplative  and  imaginative  parts ;  very  little  being 
added  in  the  way  of  action  and  incident.  And  in  respect 
of  the  former  there  is  indeed  no  comparison  between  the 
two  copies :  the  difference  is  literally  immense,  and  of  such 
a  kind  as  evinces  a  most  astonishing  growth  of  intellectual 
power  and  resource.  In  the  earlier  text,  we  have  little 
more  than  a  naked,  though,  in  the  main,  well-ordered  and 
firm-knit  skeleton,  which,  in  the  later,  is  everywhere  re- 
plenished and  glorified  with  large,  rich  volumes  of  thought 
and  poetry ;  Avhere  all  that  is  incidental  or  circumstantial 
is  made  subordinate  to  the  living  energies  of  mind  and 
soul.  The  difference  is  like  that  of  a  lusty  grove  of  hick- 
ory or  maple  brethren  in  December  with  the  winds  whist- 
ling through  them,  and  in  June  with  the  birds  singing  in 
them. 

So  that  the  enlarged  Hamlet  probably  marks  the  germi- 
nation of  that  "thoughtful  philosophy,"  as  Hallam  calls 
it,  which  never  afterwards  deserted  the  Poet;  though  time 
did  indeed  abate  its  excess,  and  reduce  it  under  his  con- 
trol; whereas  it  here  overflows  all  bounds,  and  sweeps  on- 
ward unchecked,  so  as  to  form  the  very  character  of  the 
piece.  Moreover,  this  play,  in  common  with  several  oth- 
ers, though  in  a  greater  degree,  bears  symptoms  of  a  much 
saddened  and  aggrieved,  not  to  say  embittered  temper  of 
mind :  it  is  fraught,  more  than  any  other,  with  a  spirit  of 
profound  and  melancholy  cogitation ;  as  if  written  under 
the  influence  of  some  stroke  that  had  shaken  the  Poet's 
disposition  with  thoughts  beyond  the  reaches  of  his  soul; 
or  as  if  he  were  casting  about  in  the  darker  and  sterner 
regions  of  meditation  in  quest  of  an  antidote  for  some 
deep  distress  that  had  touched  him.  For  there  can  be  little 
doubt,  that  the  birth  and  first  stages  of  "the  philosophic 
mind"  were  in  his  case,  for  some  cause  unknown  to  us, 
hung  about  with  clouds  and  gloom,  which,  however,  were 

xxix 


Introduction  /TRAGEDY  OF  HAJVILET 

afterwards  blown  off,  and  replaced  by  an  atmosphere  of 
unblemished  clearness  and  serenity. 

JFrom  all  which  may  be  gathered  how  appropriately  this 
play  has  been  described  as  a  tragedy  of  thought.  Such  is 
indeed  its  character.  And  in  this  character  it  stands  alone, 
and  that,  not  only  of  Shakespeare's  dramas,  but  of  all  the 
dramas  in  being.  As  for  action,  the  play  has  little  that 
can  be  properly  so  called.  The  scenes  are  indeed  richly 
diversified  with  incident ;  but  the  incidents,  for  the  most 
part,  engage  our  attention  only  as  serving  to  start  and 
shape  the  hero's  far-reaching  trains  of  reflection ;  them- 
selves being  lost  sight  of  in  the  wealth  of  thought  and 
sentiment  which  they  call  forth.  In  no  other  of  Shake- 
speare's plays  does  the  interest  turn  so  entirely  on  the  hero ; 
and  that,  not  because  he  overrides  the  other  persons  and 
crushes  their  individuality  under,  as  Richard  III  does ;  but 
because  his  life  is  all  centered  in  the  mind,  and  the  efflu- 
ence of  his  mind  and  character  is  around  all  the  others  and 
within  them ;  so  that  they  are  little  interesting  to  us,  but 
for  his  sake,  for  the  effects  they  have  upon  him,  and  the 
thoughts  he  has  of  them.  Observe,  too,  that  of  all  dra- 
matic personages,  "out  of  sight,  out  of  mind,"  can  least 
be  said  of  him :  on  the  contrary,  he  is  never  more  in  mind, 
than  when  out  of  sight ;  and  whenever  others  come  in  sight, 
the  effect  still  is,  to  remind  us  of  him,  and  deepen  our  in- 
terest in  him. 

The  character  of  Hamlet  has  caused  more  of  perplexity 
and  discussion  than  any  other  in  the  whole  range  of  art. 
He  has  a  wonderful  interest  for  all,  yet  none  can  explain 
him ;  and  perhaps  he  is  therefore  the  more  interesting  be- 
cause inexplicable.  We  have  found  by  experience,  that 
one  seems  to  understand  him  better  after  a  little  study  than 
after  a  great  deal,  and  that  the  less  one  sees  into  him,  the 
more  apt  one  is  to  think  he  sees  through  him ;  in  which  re- 
spect he  is  indeed  like  nature  herself.  We  shall  not  pre- 
sume to  make  clear  what  so  many  better  eyes  have  found 
and  left  dark.  The  most  we  can  hope  to  do  is,  to  start  a 
few  thoughts,  not  towards  explaining  him,  but  towards 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  introduction 

showing  why  he  cannot  be  explained;  nor  to  reduce  the 
variety  of  opinions  touching  him,  but  rather  to  suggest 
whence  that  variety  proceeds,  and  why. 

One  man  considers  Hamlet  great,  but  wicked;  another, 
good,  but  weak;  a  third,  that  he  lacks  courage,  and  dare 
not  act ;  a  fourth,  that  he  has  too  much  intellect  for  his 
will,  and  so  thinks  away  the  time  of  action:  some  con- 
clude him  honestly  mad ;  others,  that  his  madness  is  wholly 
feigned.  Yet,  notwithstanding  this  diversity  of  conclu- 
sions, all  agree  in  thinking  and  speaking  of  him  as  an  ac- 
tual person.  It  is  easy  to  invest  with  plausibility  almost 
any  theory  regarding  him,  but  very  hard  to  make  any 
theory  comprehend  the  whole  subject;  and,  while  all  are 
impressed  with  the  truth  of  the  character,  no  one  is  satis- 
fied with  another's  view  of  it.  The  question  is,  why  such 
unanimity  as  to  his  being  a  man,  and  at  the  same  time  such 
diversity  as  to  what  sort  of  a  man  he  is.? 

Now,  in  reasoning  about  facts,  we  are  apt  to  forget 
what  complex  and  many-sided  things  they  are.  We  often 
speak  of  them  as  very  simple  and  intelligible ;  and  in  some 
respects  they  are  so ;  but,  in  others,  they  are  inscrutably 
mysterious.  For  they  present  manifold  elements  and 
qualities  in  unity  and  consistency,  and  so  carry  a  mani- 
foldness  of  meaning  which  cannot  be  gathered  up  into 
logical  expression.  Even  if  we  seize  and  draw  out  sever- 
ally all  the  properties  of  a  fact,  still  we  are  as  far  as  ever 
from  producing  the  effect  of  their  combination.  Thus 
there  is  somewhat  in  facts  that  still  eludes  the  cunniiigest 
analysis ;  like  the  vital  principle,  which  no  subtlety  of  dis- 
section can  grasp  or  overtake.  It  is  this  mysteriousness 
of  facts  that  begets  our  respect  for  them:  could  we  mas- 
ter them,  we  should  naturally  lose  our  regard  for  them. 
For,  to  see  round  and  through  a  thing,  implies  a  sort  of 
conquest  over  it ;  and  when  we  seem  to  have  conquered  a 
thing,  we  are  apt  to  put  off  that  humility  towards  it, 
which  is  both  the  better  part  of  wisdom,  and  also  our  key 
to  the  remainder. 

This  complexity  of  facts  supposes  the  material  of  in- 


Introduction  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

numerable  theories:  for,  in  such  a  multitude  of  properties 
belonging  to  one  and  the  same  thing,  every  man's  mind 
may  take  hold  of  some  special  consideration  above  the  rest ; 
and  when  we  look  at  facts  through  a  given  theory  they  nat- 
urally seem  to  prove  but  that  one,  though  they  would  really 
afford  equal  proof  of  fifty  others.  Plence,  there  come  to  be 
divers  opinions  respecting  the  same  thing;  and  men  arrive 
at  opposite  conclusions,  forgetting,  that  of  a  given  fact 
many  things  may  be  true  in  their  place  and  degree,  yet 
none  of  them  true  in  such  sort  as  to  impair  the  truth  of 
others. 

Now,  Hamlet  is  all  varieties  of  character  in  one;  he  is 
continually  turning  up  a  new  side,  appearing  under  a  new 
phase,  undergoing  some  new  development ;  so  that  he 
touches  us  at  all  points,  and,  as  it  were,  surrounds  us. 
This  complexity  and  versatility  of  character  are  often 
mistaken  for  inconsistency:  hence  the  contradictory  opin- 
ions respecting  him,  different  minds  taking  very  different 
impressions  of  him,  and  even  the  same  mind,  at  different 
times.  In  short,  like  other  facts,  he  is  many-sided,  so  that 
many  men  of  many  minds  may  see  themselves  in  different 
sides  of  him ;  but,  when  they  compare  notes,  and  find  him 
agreeing  with  them  all,  they  are  perplexed,  and  are  apt  to 
think  him  inconsistent:  in  so  great  a  diversity  of  elements, 
they  lose  the  perception  of  identity,  and  cannot  see  how 
he  can  be  so  many,  and  still  be  but  one.  Doubtless  he 
seems  the  more  real  for  this  very  cause ;  our  inabilit}'^  to  see 
through  him,  or  to  discern  the  source  and  manner  of  his 
impression  upon  us,  brings  him  closer  to  nature,  makes  him 
appear  the  more  like  a  fact,  and  so  strengthens  his  hold 
on  our  thoughts.  For,  where  there  is  life,  there  must  needs 
be  more  or  less  of  change,  the  very  law  of  life  being  iden- 
tity in  mutability;  and  in  Hamlet  the  variotj^  and  rapidity 
of  changes  are  so  managed  as  only  to  infer  the  more  in- 
tense, active,  and  prolific  vitality ;  though,  in  so  great  a 
multitude  of  changes,  it  Is  extremely  difficult  to  seize  the 
constant  principle. 

Coleridge's  view  of  Hamlet  is  much  celebrated,  and  the 

xxxii 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  introduction 

currency  it  has  attained  shows  there  must  be  something  of 
truth  in  it.  "In  the  healthy  processes  of  the  mind,"  says 
he,  "a  balance  is  constantly  maintained  between  the  im- 
pressions from  outward  objects  and  the  inward  operations 
of  the  intellect :  for,  if  there  be  an  overbalance  in  the  con- 
templative faculty,  man  thereby  becomes  the  creature  of 
mere  meditation,  and  loses  his  natural  power  of  action. 
Now,  one  of  Shakespeare's  modes  of  creating  characters 
is,  to  conceive  any  one  intellectual  or  moral  faculty  in  mor- 
bid excess,  and  then  to  place  himself,  Shakespeare,  thus 
mutilated  or  diseased,  under  given  circumstances.  In 
Hamlet  he  seems  to  have  wished  to  exemplify  the  moral 
necessity  of  a  due  balance  between  our  attention  to  the 
objects  of  our  senses,  and  our  meditation  on  the  workings 
of  our  minds, — an  equilibrium  between  the  real  and  the 
imaginary  worlds.  In  Hamlet  this  balance  is  disturbed: 
his  thoughts  and  the  images  of  his  fancy  are  far  more 
vivid  than  his  actual  perceptions ;  and  his  very  percep- 
tions, Instantly  passing  through  the  medium,  of  his  contem- 
plations, acquire,  as  they  pass,  a  form  and  color  not  natur- 
ally their  own.  Hence  we  see  a  great,  an  almost  enormous, 
intellectual  activity,  and  a  proportionate  aversion  to  real 
action,  consequent  upon  it,  with  all  its  symptoms  and  ac- 
companying qualities.  This  character  Shakespeare  places 
in  circumstances,  under  which  it  is  obliged  to  act  on  the 
spur  of  the  moment: — Hamlet  is  brave  and  careless  of 
death ;  but  he  vacillates  from  sensibility,  and  procrastinates 
from  thought,  and  loses  the  power  of  action  in  the  energy 
of  resolve. 

"The  effect  of  this  overbalance  of  the  Imaginative  power 
Is  beautifully  illustrated  in  the  everlasting  broodings  and 
superfluous  activities  of  Hamlet's  mind,  which,  unseated 
from  Its  healthy  relation.  Is  constantly  occupied  with  the 
world  within,  and  abstracted  from  the  world  without ;  giv- 
ing substance  to  shadows,  and  throwing  a  mist  over  all 
common-place  actualities.  It  Is  the  nature  of  thought  to 
be  Indefinite; — definlteness  belongs  to  external  Imagery 
alone.     Hence  it  is  that  the  sense  of  sublimity  arises,  net 

xxxiii 


Introduction  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

from  the  sight  of  an  outward  object,  but  from  the  be- 
holder's reflection  upon  it ;  not  from  the  sensuous  im- 
pression, but  from  the  imaginative  reflex.  Few  have  seen 
a  celebrated  waterfall  without  feeling  something  akin  to 
disappointment:  it  is  only  subsequently  that  the  image 
comes  back  full  into  the  mind,  and  brings  with  it  a  train  of 
grand  or  beautiful  associations.  Hamlet  feels  this ;  his 
senses  are  in  a  trance,  and  he  looks  upon  external  things  as 
hierogh'phics." 

This  is  certainly  very  noble  criticism ;  and  our  main 
ground  of  doubt  as  to  the  view  thus  given  is,  that  Hamlet 
seems  bold,  energetic,  and  prompt  enough  in  action,  when 
his  course  is  free  of  moral  impediments ;  as,  for  instance,  in 
his  conduct  on  shipboard,  touching  the  commission,  where 
his  powers  of  thought  all  range  themselves  under  the  lead- 
ing of  a  most  vigorous  and  steady  will.  Our  own  belief 
is,  though  we  are  far  from  absolute  in  it,  that  the  Poet's 
design  was,  to  conceive  a  man  great,  perhaps  equally  so, 
in  all  the  elements  of  character,  mental,  moral,  and  prac- 
tical ;  and  then  to  place  him  in  such  circumstances,  bring 
such  motives  to  bear  upon  him,  and  open  to  him  such 
sources  of  influence  and  reflection,  that  all  his  greatness 
should  be  morally  forced  to  display  itself  in  the  form  of 
thought,  even  his  strength  of  will  having  no  practicable 
outlet  but  through  the  energies  of  the  intellect.  A  brief 
review  of  the  delineation  will,  if  we  mistake  not,  discover 
some  reason  for  this  belief. 

Up  to  the  time  of  his  father's  death,  Hamlet's  mind, 
busied  in  developing  its  innate  riches,  had  found  room  for 
no  sentiments  towards  others  but  generous  trust  and  con- 
fidence. Delighted  with  the  appearances  of  good,  and 
shielded  by  his  rank  from  the  naked  approaches  of  evil, 
he  had  no  motive  to  pry  through  the  semblance  into  the 
reality  of  surrounding  characters.  The  ideas  of  princely 
elevation  and  moral  rectitude,  springing  up  simultaneously 
in  his  mind,  had  intertwisted  their  fibers  closely  together. 
While  the  chaste  forms  of  young  imagination  had  kept 
his  own  heart  pure,  he  had  framed  his  conceptions  of  oth- 


PRINCE    OF   DENMARK  Introduction 

ers  according  to  the  model  within  himself.  To  the  feel- 
ings of  the  son,  the  prince,  the  gentleman,  the  friend,  the 
scholar,  had  lately  been  joined  those  of  the  lover;  and  his 
heart,  oppressed  with  its  own  hopes  and  joys,  had  breathed 
forth  its  fulness  in  "almost  all  the  holy  vows  of  heaven." 
In  his  father  he  had  realized  the  ideal  of  character  which 
he  a.spired  to  exemplify.  WhaFsoevef  noble  images  and 
ideas  he  had  gathered  from  the  fields  of  poetr}^  and  phi- 
losophy, he  had  learned  to  associate  with  that  venerated 
name.  To  the  throne  he  looked  forward  with  hope  and 
fear,  as  an  elevation  for  diffusing  the  blessings  of  a  wise 
sovereignt}^  and  receiving  the  homage  of  a  grateful  sub- 
mission. As  the  crown  was  elective,  he  regarded  his  pros- 
pects of  attaining  it  as  suspended  on  the  continuance  of 
his  father's  life,  till  he  could  discover  in  himself  such  vir- 
tues as  would  secure  him  the  succession.  In  his  father's 
death,  therefore,  he  lost  the  mainstay  of  both  his  affections 
and  his  pretensions. 

Notwithstanding,  the  foundations  of  his  peace  and  hap- 
piness were  yet  unshaken.  The  prospects  of  the  man  were 
perhaps  all  the  brighter,  that  those  of  the  prince  had 
faded.  The  fireside  and  the  student's  bower  were  still  open 
to  him ;  truth  and  beauty,  thought  and  affection,  had  not 
hidden  their  faces  from  him:  with  a  mind  saddened,  but 
not  diseased,  his  bereavement  served  to  deepen  and  chasten 
his  sensibilities,  without  untuning  their  music.  Cunning 
and  quick  of  heart  to  discover  and  appropriate  the  re- 
munerations of  life,  he  could  compensate  the  loss  of  some 
objects  with  a  more  free  and  tranquil  enjoyment  of  such 
as  remained.  In  the  absence  of  his  father,  he  could  con- 
centrate upon  his  mother  the  feelings  hitherto  shared  be- 
tween them ;  and,  in  cases  like  this,  religion  towards  the 
dead  comes  in  to  heighten  and  sanctify  an  affection  for 
the  living.  Even  if  his  mother  too  had  died,  the  loss,  how- 
ever bitter,  would  not  have  been  baleful  to  him ;  for, 
though  separated  from  the  chief  objects  of  love  and  trust 
and  reverence,  he  would  still  have  retained  those  senti- 
ments themselves  unimpaired.      It  is  not  his  mother,  how- 

XXXV 


Introduction  .TRAGEDY  OF  HAJMLET 

ever,  but  his  faith  In  her,  that  he  has  to  part  with.  To 
his  prophetic  soul,  the  hasty  and  incestuous  marriage 
brings  at  once  conviction  of  his  mother's  infidehty,  and 
suspicion  of  his  uncle's  treachery,  to  his  father.  Where  he 
has  most  loved  and  trusted,  there  he  has  been  most  de- 
ceived. The  sadness  of  bereavement  now  settles  into  the 
deep  gloom  of  a  wounded  spirit,  and  life  seems  rather  a 
burden  to  be  borne  than  a  blessing  to  be  cherished.  In 
this  condition,  the  appearance  of  the  Ghost,  its  awful  dis- 
closures, and  more  awful  injunctions,  confinning  the  sus- 
picion of  his  uncle's  treachery,  and  implicating  his  mother 
in  the  crime,  complete  his  desolation  of  mind. 

Nevertheless,  he  still  retains  all  his  integrity  and  up- 
rightness of  soul.  In  the  depths  of  his  being,  even  below 
the  reach  of  consciousness,  there  lives  the  instinct  and  im- 
pulse of  a  moral  law  with  which  the  injunction  of  the 
Ghost  stands  in  direct  conflict.  What  is  the  quality  of 
the  act  required  of  him?  Nothing  less,  indeed,  than  to 
kill  at  once  his  uncle,  his  mother's  husband,  and  his  king; 
and  this,  not  as  an  act  of  justice,  and  in  a  judicial  manner, 
but  as  an  act  of  revenge,  and  by  assassination !  How 
shall  he  justify  such  a  deed  to  the  world.''  How  vindicate 
himself  from  the  very  crime  thus  revenged.''  For,  as  he 
cannot  subpoena  the  Ghost,  the  evidence  on  which  he  must 
act  is  in  its  nature  available  only  in  the  court  of  his  own 
conscience.  To  serve  any  good  end  either  for  himself  or 
for  others,  the  deed  must  so  stand  in  the  public  eye,  as  it 
does  in  his  own  ;  else  he  will,  in  effect,  be  setting  an  exam- 
ple and  precedent  of  murder,  not  of  justice. 

Thus  Hamlet's  conscience  is  divided,  not  merely  against 
his  inclination,  but  against  itself.  However  he  multiplies 
to  himself  reasons  and  motives  for  the  deed,  there  yet 
springs  up,  from  a  depth  in  his  nature  which  reflection  has 
not  fathomed,  and  overruling  impulse  against  it.  So 
that  we  have  the  triumph  of  a  pure  moral  natiirfiL  over 
temptation  in  its  most  imposing  form, — the  form  of  a 
sacred  call  from  heaven,  or  what  is  such  to  him.  He 
thinks  he  ought  to  do  the  thing,  resolves  that  he  will  do 

xxxvi 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  introduction 

it,  blames  himself  for  not  doing  it;  but  there  is  a  power 
within  him  which  still  outwrestles  his  purpose.  In  brief, 
the  trouble  lies  not  in  himself,  but  in  hiS  situation;  it 
arises  from  the  impossibility  of  translating  the  outward 
call  of  duty  into  a  free  moral  impulse;  and  until  so 
translated  he  cannot  perform  it;  for  in  such  an  undertak- 
ing he  must  act  from  himself,  not  from  another. 

This  strife  of  incompatible  duties  seems  the  true  source 
of  Hamlet's  practical  indecision.  His  moral  sensitiveness, 
shrinking  from  the  dreadful  mandate  of  revenge,  throws 
him  back  upon  his  reflective  powers,  and  sends  him  through 
the  abysses  of  thought  in  quest  of  a  reconciliation  be- 
tween his  conflicting  duties,  that  so  he  may  shelter  either 
the  perfomiance  of  the  deed  from  the  reproach  of  irreli- 
gion,  or  the  non-performance  from  that  of  filial  impiety. 
Moreover,  on  reflection  he  discerns  something  in  the  man- 
date that  makes  him  question  its  source:  even  his  filial 
reverence  leads  him  first  to  regret,  then  to  doubt,  and 
finally  to  disbelieve,  that  his  father  has  laid  on  him  such 
an  injunction.  It  seems  more  likely  that  the  Ghost  should 
be  a  counterfeit,  than  that  his  father  should  call  him  to 
such  a  deed.  Thus  his  mind  is  set  in  quest  of  other  proofs. 
But  when,  by  the  stratagem  of  the  play,  he  has  made  the 
King's  guilt  unkennel  itself,  this  demonstration  again  ar- 
rests his  hand,  because  his  own  conscience  is  startled  into 
motion  by  the  revelations  made  from  that  of  another. 
Seeking  ground  of  action  in  the  workings  of  remorse,  the 
very  proofs,  which  to  his  mind  would  justify  the  inflict- 
ing of  death,  themselves  spring  from  something  worse  than 
death. 

And  it  should  be  remarked,  withal,  that  by  the  very 
process  of  the  case  he  is  put  in  immediate  contact  with 
supernatural  influences.  The  same  voice  that  calls  him  to 
the  undertaking  also  unfolds  to  him  the  retributions  of 
futurity.  The  thought  of  that  eternal  blazon,  which  must 
not  be  to  ears  of  flesh  and  blood,  entrances  him  in  medita- 
tion on  the  awful  realities  of  the  invisible  world;  so  that, 
while  nerved  by  a  sense  of  the  duty,  he  is  at  the  same  time 


Introduction  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

^  shaken  by  a  dread  of  the  responsibihty.  Thus  the  Ghost 
works  in  Hamlet  a  sort  of  preternatural  development:  its 
disclosures  bring  forth  into  clear  apprehension  some  moral 

*  ideas  which  before  were  but  dim  presentiments  in  him.  It 
is  as  if  he  were  born  into  the  other  world  before  dying  out 
of  this.  And  what  is  thus  developed  in  him  is  at  strife  with 
the  injunction  laid  upon  him. 

I  Thus  it_appears> -that  Hamlet  is  distracted  with  a  pur- 
pose which  he  is  at  once  too  good  a^on  to  dismiss,  and  too 
goocTaTman  to  perform.  Under  an  injunction  with  which 
he  knowj_not_what  to  doj_he__casts  about,  now  for  excuses, 
y^  now  for^censures,  of  jiis  nonperformance^^Apd  religion  still 
prpvpnts  Jri^m^from  doing  what  filial  piety  reproves  him  for 
leaving  undone^.  Not  daring  to  abandon  the  design  of 
killingThe_Kingj_Jie_Js_yet_morall^^M  of  forming 

any  plan  forgoing  it :  he  can  only  go  through  the  work,  as 
indeed  he_does  at  last,  undexlalsii3den  frenzy  of  excite- 
ment, caused  by  some_immediat£-provocation  ;  not  sa  much 
acting7~as  being^^ted  upgnj^r^atligr  as  5Ji  instrument  of 
Pro videncej_than  as^  a^elf -^determining  agent. 

Properly  speaking,  then,  Hamlet,  we  think,  does  not  lack 
force  of  will.  In  him,  will  is  strictly  subject  to  reason  and 
conscience ;  and  it  rather  shows  strength  than  otherwise  in 
refusing  to  move  in  conflict  with  them.  We  are  apt  to 
measure  men's  force  of  will  only  by  what  they  do,  whereas 
the  true  measure  thereof  often  lies  rather  in  what  they  do 
not  do.  On  this  point,  Mr.  E.  P.  Whipple  suggests,  that 
"will  is  a  relative  term ;  and,  even  admitting  that  Hamlet 
possessed  more  will  than  many  who  act  with  decision,  the 
fact  that  his  other  powers  were  larger  in  proportion  justi- 
fies the  common  belief,  that  he  was  deficient  in  energy  of 
purpose."  But  this,  it  strikes  us,  does  not  exactly  meet 
the  position ;  which  is,  that  force  of  will  is  shown  rather  in 
holding  still,  than  in  moving,  where  the  moral  understand- 
ing is  not  satisfied;  and  that  Hamlet  seems  to  lack  rather 
the  power  of  seeing  what  he  ought  to  do,  than  of  doing 
what  he  sees  to  be  right.  The  question  is,  whether  the  pe- 
culiarity of  this  representation  is  not  meant  to  consist  in 

xxxviii 


PRINCE    OF   DENMARK  Introduction 

the  hero  being  so  placed,  that  strength  of  will  has  its 
proper  outcome  rather  in  thinking  than  in  acting;  the 
working  of  his  whole  mind  being  thus  rendered  as  anoma- 
lous as  his  situation;  which  is  just  what  the  subject  re- 
quires. Will  it  be  said,  that  Hamlet's  moral  scruples  are 
born  of  an  innate  reluctance  to  act?  that  from  defect  of 
will  he  wishes  to  hold  back,  and  so  hunts  after  motives  for 
doing  so  ?  We  should  ourselves  be  much  inclined  to  say  so, 
but  that  those  scruples  seem  to  be  the  native  and  legiti- 
mate offspring  of  reason.  There  being,  as  we  think,  suf- 
ficient grounds  for  them  out  of  him,  we  cannot  refer  them 
to  any  infirmity  of  his  as  their  source. 

It  is  true,  Hamlet  takes  to  himself  all  the  blame  of  his 
indecision.  This,  we  think,  is  one  of  the  finest  points  in 
the  delineation.  For  true  virtue  does  not  publish  itself: 
radiating  from  the  heart  through  the  functions  of  life,  its 
transpirations  are  so  free  and  smooth  and  deep  as  to  be 
scarce  heard  even  by  the  subject  of  them.  Moreover,  in 
his  conflict  of  duties,  Hamlet  naturally  thinks  he  is  tak- 
ing the  wrong  one ;  the  calls  of  the  claim  he  meets  being 
hushed  by  satisfaction,  while  those  of  the  other  are  in- 
creased by  disappointment.  The  current  that  we  go  with 
is  naturally  unnoticed  by  us ;  but  that  which  we  go  against 
compels  our  notice  by  the  struggle  it  puts  us  to.  In  this 
way  Hamlet  comes  to  mistake  his  clearness  of  conscience 
for  moral  insensibility.  For  even  so  a  good  man  is  apt 
to  think  he  has  not  conscience  enough,  because  it  is  quiet ; 
a  bad  man,  that  he  has  too  much,  because  it  troubles  him ; 
which  accounts  for  the  readiness  of  bad  men  to  supply  their 
neighbors  with  conscience. 

But  perhaps  the  greatest  perplexity  of  ajl  in  Hamlet's 
character  tujiis  on  the  point  of  his  "antic^  disposition." 
Whether  his  madness  be  real  or  feigned,  or  sometimes  the 
one,  sometimes  the  other,  or  partly  real,  jiartly  feigned,  are 
questions  which,  like  many  that  arise  on  similar  points  in 
actual  Jif e,  ^perhaps  can  never  be  finally  settled  either  way. 
Aside  from  the  common  impossibility  of  deciding  precisely 
where  sanity  ends  and  insanity  begins,  there  are  peculiar- 

xxxix 


Introduction  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

ities  in  Hamlet's  conduct, — resulting  from  the  minglings 
of  the  supernatural  in  his  situation, — which,  as  they  tran- 
scend the  reach  of  our  ordinary  experience,  can  hardly  be 
reduced  to  any  thing  more  than  probable  conjecture.  If 
sanity  consists  in  a  certain  harmony  between  a  man's  ac- 
tions and  his  circumstances,  it  must  be  hard  indeed  to  say 
what  would  be  insanity  in  a  man  so  circumstanced  as  Ham- 
let. 

That  his  mind  is  thrown  from  its  propriety,  shaken  from 
its  due  forms  and  measures  of  working,  excited  into  ir- 
regular, fevered  action,  is  evident  enough :  from  the  deeply- 
agitating  experiences  he  has  undergone,  the  horrors  of 
guilt  preternaturally  laid  open  to  him,  and  the  terrible 
ministry  enjoined  upon  him,  he  could  not  be  otherwise. 
His  mind  is  indeed  full  of  unhealthy  perturbation,  being 
necessarily  made  so  by  the  overwhelming  thoughts  that 
press  upon  him  from  without ;  but  it  nowhere  appears  en- 
thralled by  illusions  spun  from  itself;  there  are  no  symp- 
toms of  its  being  torn  from  its  proper  holdings,  or  par- 
alyzed in  its  power  of  steady  thought  and  coherent 
reasoning.  Once  only,  at  the  grave  of  Ophelia,  does  he 
lose  his  self-possession ;  and  the  result  in  this  case  only  goes 
to  prove  how  firmly  he  retains  it  everywhere  else. 

It  is  matter  of  common  observation,  that  extreme  emo- 
tions naturally  express  themselves  by  their  opposites ;  as 
extreme  sorrow,  in  laughter,  extreme  joy,  in  tears;  utter 
despair,  in  a  voice  of  mirth ;  a  wounded  spirit,  in  gushes 
of  humor.  Hence  Shakespeare  heightens  the  effect  of 
some  of  his  awfulest  scenes  by  making  the  persons  indulge 
in  flashes  of  merriment ;  for  what  so  appalling  as  to  see 
a  person  laughing  and  playing  from  excess  of  anguish  or 
terror.''  Now,  the  expressions  of  mirth,  in  such  cases  are 
plainly  neither  the  reality  nor  the  affectation  of  mirth. 
People,  when  overwhelmed  with  distress,  certainly  are  not 
in  a  condition  either  to  feel  merry  or  to  feign  mirth ;  yet 
they  do  sometimes  express  it.  The  truth  is,  such  extremes 
naturally  and  spontaneously  express  themselves  by  their 
opposites.     In  like  manner,  Hamlet's  madness,  it  seems  to 

xl    ' 


PRINCE    OF   DENMARK  Introduction 

us,  is  neither  real_npr  affected,  but  a  sort  of  natural  and 
spontaneous  imitation  of  madness;  the  triumph  of  his  rea- 
son over  his  passion  naturally  expressing  itself  in  the  to- 
kens of  insanity,  just  as  the  agonies  of  despair  naturally 
vent  themselves  in  flashes  of  mirth.  Accordingly,  Cole- 
ridge remarks,  that  "Hamlet's  wildness  is  but  half  false ;  he 
plays  that  subtle  trick  of  pretending  to  act,  only  when  he 
is  very  near  really  being  what  he  acts." 

Again :  It  is  not  uncommon  for  men,  in  times  of  great 
depression,  to  fly  off'  into  prodigious  humors  and  eccen- 
tricities. We  have  known  people  under  such  extreme 
pressure  to  throw  their  most  intimate  friends  into  conster- 
nation by  their  extravagant  playings  and  frolickings. 
Such  symptoms  of  wildness  are  sometimes  the  natural, 
though  spasmodic,  reaction  of  the  mind  against  the  weight 
that  oppresses  it.  The  mind  thus  spontaneously  becomes 
eccentric  in  order  to  recover  or  preserve  its  center.  Even 
so  Hamlet's  aberrations  seem  the  conscious,  half -voluntary 
bending  of  his  faculties  beneath  an  overload  of  thought,  to 
keep  them  from  breaking.  His  mind  being  deeply  dis- 
turbed, agitated  to  its  center,  but  not  disorganized,  those 
irregularities  are  rather  a  throwing-off'  of  that  disturbance 
than  a  giving-way  to  it. 

On  the  whole,  therefore,  Goethe's  celebrated  criticism 
seems  quite  beside  the  mark :  nevertheless,  as  it  is  the  calm 
judgment  of  a  great  mind,  besides  being  almost  too  beau- 
tiful in  itself  not  to  be  true,  we  gladly  subjoin  it.  "It  is 
clear  to  me,"  says  he,  "that  Shakespeare's  intention  was, 
to  exhibit  the  eff'ects  of  a  great  action  imposed  as  a  duty 
upon  a  mind  too  feeble  for  its  accomplishment.  In  this 
sense  I  find  the  character  consistent  throughout.  Here  is 
an  oak  planted  in  a  china  vase,  proper  to  receive  only  the 
most  delicate  flowers:  the  roots  strike  out,  and  the  vessel 
flies  to  pieces.  A  pure,  noble,  highly  moral  disposition, 
but  without  that  energy  of  soul  which  constitutes  the  hero, 
sinks  under  a  load  which  it  can  neither  support  nor  resolve 
to  abandon  altogether.  All  his  obligations  are  sacred  to 
him ;  but  this  alone  is  above  his  powers.     An  impossibility 

xli 


Introduction  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

is  required  at  his  hands  ;  not  an  impossibility  in  itself,  but 
that  which  is  so  to  him." 

Still  we  have  to  confess,  as  stated  before,  that  there  is  a 
mystery  about  Hamlet,  which  baffles  all  our  resources  of 
criticism ;  and  our  remarks  should  be  taken  as  expressing 
rather  what  we  have  thought  on  the  subject  than  any  set- 
tled judgment.  We  will  dismiss  the  theme  by  quoting  what 
seems  to  us  a  very  admirable  passage  from  a  paper  in 
Blackwood's  Magazine,  vol.  ii,  signed  "T.  C."  The  writer 
is  speaking  of  Hamlet:  "In  him,  his  character,  and  his 
situation,  there  is  a  concentration  of  all  the  interests  that 
belong  to  humanity.  There  is  scarcely  a  trait  of  frailty 
or  of  grandeur,  which  may  have  endeared  to  us  our 
most  beloved  friends  in  real  life,  that  is  not  found  in  Ham- 
let. Undoubtedly  Shakespeare  loved  him  beyond  all  his 
other  creations.  Soon  as  he  appears  on  the  stage,  we 
are  satisfied :  when  absent,  we  long  for  his  return.  This  is 
the  only  play  which  exists  almost  altogether  in  the  char- 
acter of  one  single  person.  Who  ever  knew  a  Hamlet  in 
real  life.?  yet  who,  ideal  as  the  character  is,  feels  not  its 
reality.''  This  is  the  wonder.  We  love  him  not,  we  think 
of  him  not,  because  he  was  witty,  because  he  was  melan- 
choly, because  he  was  filial;  but  we  love  him  because  he 
existed,  and  was  himself.  This  is  the  grand  sum-total 
of  the  impression.  I  believe  that  of  every  other  character, 
either  in  tragic  or  epic  poetry,  the  story  makes  a  part 
of  the  conception ;  but,  of  Hamlet,  the  deep  and  permanent 
interest  is  the  conception  of  himself.  This  seems  to  be- 
long, not  to  the  character  being  more  perfectly  drawn, 
but  to  there  being  a  more  intense  conception  of  individual 
human  life  than  perhaps  in  any  other  human  composition ; 
that  is,  a  being  with  springs  of  thought,  and  feeling,  and 
action,  deeper  than  we  can  search.  These  springs  rise  up 
from  an  unknown  depth,  and  in  that  depth  there  seems  to 
be  a  oneness  of  being  which  we  cannot  distinctly  behold, 
but  which  we  believe  to  be  there;  and  thus  irreconcilable 
circumstances,  floating  on  the  surface  of  his  actions,  have 

xlii 


PRINCE    OP^    DENMARK  introduction 

not  the  effect  of  making  us  doubt  the  truth  of  the  general 
picture." 

From  the  same  eloquent  paper  we  must  make  another 
extract  touching  the  apparition  of  "that  fair  and  war- 
like form,  in  which  the  majesty  of  buried  Denmark  did 
sometimes  march":  "With  all  the  mighty  power  which 
this  tragedy  possesses  over  us,  arising  from  qualities  now 
very  generally  described;  yet,  without  that  kingly  shadow, 
who  throws  over  it  such  preternatural  grandeur,  it  could 
never  have  gained  so  universal  an  ascendancy  over  the 
minds  of  men.  Now,  the  reality  of  a  ghost  is  measured  to 
that  state  of  imagination  in  which  we  ought  to  be  held  for 
the  fullest  powers  of  tragedy.  The  appearance  of  such 
a  phantom  at  once  throws  open  those  recesses  of  the  inner 
spirit  over  which  flesh  was  closing.  Magicians,  thunder- 
storms, and  demons  produce  upon  me  something  of  the 
same  effect.  I  feel  myself  brought  instantaneously  back  to 
the  creed  of  childhood.  Imagination  then  seems  not  a 
power  which  I  exert,  but  an  impulse  which  I  obey.  Thus 
does  the  Ghost  in  Hamlet  carry  us  into  the  presence  of 
eternity. 

"Never  was  a  more  majestic  spirit  more  majestically  re- 
vealed. The  shadow  of  his  kingly  grandeur  and  his  war- 
like might,  rests  massily  upon  him.  He  passes  before  us 
sad,  silent,  and  stately.  He  brings  the  whole  weight  of 
the  tragedy  in  his  disclosures.  His  speech  is  ghost-like, 
and  blends  with  ghost  conceptions.  The  popular  memory 
of  his  words  proves  how  profoundly  they  sink  into  our 
souls.  The  preparation  for  his  first  appearance  is  most 
solemn.  The  night-watch, — the  more  common  effect  on 
the  two  soldiers, — the  deeper  effect  on  the  next  party,  and 
their  speculations, — Horatio's  communication  with  the 
shadow,  that  seems  as  it  were  half  way  between  theirs  and 
Hamlet's, — his  adjurations, — the  degree  of  impression 
which  they  produce  on  the  Ghost's  mind,  who  is  about  to 
speak  but  for  the  due  ghost-like  interruption  of  the  bird 
of  morning; — all  these  things  lead  our  minds  up  to  the 

xliii 


intrcyduction  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

last  pitch  of  breathless  expectation  ;  and  while  yet  the  whole 
weight  of  mystery  is  left  hanging  over  the  play,  we  feel 
that  some  dread  disclosure  is  reserved  for  Hamlet's  ear,  and 
that  an  apparition  from  the  world  unknown  is  still  a  par- 
taker of  the  noblest  of  all  earthly  affections." 

Horatio  is  a  very  noble  character ;  but  he  moves  so 
quietljf  in  the  drama,  that  his  modest  worth  and  solid  man- 
liness have  not  had  justice  done  them.  Should  we  under- 
take to  go  through  the  play  without  him,  we  should  then 
feel  how  much  of  the  best  spirit  and  impression  of  the 
scenes  is  owing  to  his  presence  and  character.  For  he  is 
the  medium  through  which  many  of  the  hero's  finest  and 
noblest  traits  are  conveyed  to  us ;  yet  himself  so  clear  and 
transparent  that  he  scarcely  catches  the  attention.  Mr. 
Verplanck,  we  believe,  was  the  first  to  give  him  his  due. 
"While,"  says  he,  "every  other  character  in  this  play, 
Ophelia,  Polonius,  and  even  Osrick,  has  been  analyzed  and 
discussed,  it  is  remarkable  that  no  critic  has  stepped  fonvard 
to  notice  the  great  beauty  of  Horatio's  character,  and  its 
exquisite  adaptation  to  the  effect  of  the  piece.  His  is 
a  character  of  great  excellence  and  accomplishment ;  but 
while  this  is  distinctly  shown,  it  is  but  sketched,  not  elab- 
orately painted.  His  qualities  are  brought  out  only  by 
single  and  seemingly-accidental  touches ;  the  whole  being 
toned  down  to  a  quiet  and  unobtrusive  beauty  that  does 
not  tempt  the  mind  to  wander  from  the  main  interest,  which 
rests  alone  upon  Hamlet ;  while  it  is  yet  distinct  enough 
to  increase  that  interest,  by  showing  him  worthy  to  be 
Hamlet's  trusted  friend  in  life,  and  the  chosen  defender  of 
his  honor  after  death.  Such  a  character,  in  the  hands  of 
another  author,  would  have  been  made  the  center  of  some 
secondary  plot.  But  here,  while  he  commands  our  respect 
and  esteem,  he  never  for  a  moment  divides  a  passing  inter- 
est Avith  the  Prince.  He  does  not  break  in  upon  the  main  * 
current  of  our  feelings.  He  contributes  only  to  the  gen- 
eral effect ;  so  that  it  requires  an  effort  of  the  mind  to 
separate  him  for  critical  admiration." 

The  main  features  of  Polonius  have  been  seized  and  set 

xliv 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  introduction 

forth  by  Dr.  Johnson  with  the  hand  of  a  master.  It  is 
one  of  the  best  pieces  of  personal  criticism  ever  penned. 
"Polonius,"  says  he,  "is  a  man  bred  in  courts,  exercised  in 
business,  stored  with  observation,  confident  in  his  knowl- 
edge, proud  of  his  eloquence,  and  declining  into  dotage. 
His  mode  of  oratory  is  designed  to  ridicule  the  practice  of 
those  times,  of  prefaces  that  made  no  introduction,  and  of 
method  that  embarrassed  rather  than  explained.  This  part 
of  his  character  is  accidental,  the  rest  natural.  Such  a 
man  is  positive  and  confident,  because  he  knows  that  his 
mind  was  once  strong,  and  knows  not  that  it  has  become 
weak.  Such  a  man  excels  in  general  principles,  but  fails 
in  particular  application.  He  is  knowing  in  retrospect, 
and  ignorant  in  foresight.  While  he  depends  upon  his 
memory,  and  can  draw  from  his  depositaries  of  knowledge, 
he  utters  weighty  sentences,  and  gives  useful  counsel ;  but, 
as  the  mind  in  its  enfeebled  state  cannot  be  kept  long  busy 
and  intent,  the  old  man  is  subject  to  the  dereliction  of  his 
faculties ;  he  loses  the  order  of  his  ideas,  and  entangles  him- 
self in  his  own  thoughts,  till  he  recover  the  leading  princi- 
ple, and  fall  into  his  former  train.  The  idea  of  dotage  en- 
croaching upon  wisdom  will  solve  all  the  phenomena  of  the 
character  of  Polonius." 

In  all  this  Polonius  Is  the  exact  antithesis  of  Hamlet, 
though  Hamlet  doubtless  includes  him,  as  the  heavens  do 
the  earth.  A  man  of  but  one  method,  that  of  intrigue ; 
with  his  fingers  ever  itching  to  pull  the  wires  of  some  intri- 
cate plot;  and  without  any  sense  or  perception  of  times 
and  occasions ;  he  is  called  to  act  in  a  matter  where  such 
arts  and  methods  are  peculiarly  unfitting,  and  therefore 
only  succeeds  in  over-reaching  himself.  Thus  in  him  we 
have  the  type  of  a  superannuated  politician,  and  all  his 
follies  and  blunders  spring  from  undertaking  to  act  the 
politician  where  he  Is  most  especially  required  to  be  a  man. 
From  books,  too,  he  has  gleaned  maxims,  but  not  gained 
development;  sought  to  equip,  not  feed,  his  mind  out  of 
them :  he  has  therefore  made  books  his  idols,  and  books  have 
made  him  pedantic. 

xlv 


Introduction  TRAGEDY  OF  HAIklLET 

To  such  a  mind,  or  rather  half-mind,  the  character  of 

Hamlet  must  needs   be   a   profound  enigma.      It  takes   a 

whole  man  to  know  such  a  being  as  Hamlet ;  and  Polonius 

is  but  the  attic  story  of  a  man !     As  in  his  mind  the  calcu- 

lative  faculties  have  eaten  out  the  perceptive,  of  course  his 

inferences   are   seldom   wrong,  his   premises   seldom  right. 

Assuming  Hamlet  to  be  thus  and  so,  he  reasons  and  acts 

/fnost  admirably  in  regard  to  him ;  but  the  fact  is,  he  can- 

/   not  see  Hamlet ;  has  no  eye  for  the  true  premises  of  the 

/    case ;  and,  being  wrong  in  these,  his  very  correctness  of 

I     logic  makes  him  but  the  more  ridiculous.      His  method  of 

\    coming  at  the  meaning  of  men,  is  by  reading  them  back- 

\  wards ;  and  this  method,  used  upon   such  a  character  as 

^Hamlet,  can  but  betray  the  user's  infirmity. 

Shakespeare's  skill  in  revealing  a  character  through  its 
most  characteristic  transpirations  is  finely  displa3'ed  in  the 
directions  Polonius  gives  his  servant,  for  detecting  the 
habits  and  practices  of  his  absent  son.  Here  the  old  poli- 
tician is  perfectly  at  home ;  his  mind  seems  to  revel  in  the 
mysteries  of  wire-pulling  and  trap-setting.  In  the  Prince, 
however,  he  finds  an  impracticable  sub j  ect ;  here  all  his 
strategy  is  nonplussed,  and  himself  caught  in  the  trap  he 
sets  to  catch  the  truth.  The  mere  torch  of  policy,  nature, 
or  Hamlet,  who  is  an  embodiment  of  nature,  blows  him  out ; 
so  that,  in  attempting  to  throw  light  on  the  Prince,  he  just 
rays  out  nothing  but  smoke.  The  sport  of  circumstances, 
it  was  only  by  a  change  of  circumstances  that  Hamlet  came 
to  know  him.  Once  the  honored  minister  of  his  royal  fa- 
ther, now  the  despised  tool  of  that  father's  murderer,  Ham- 
let sees  in  him  only  the  crooked,  supple  time-server ;  and  the 
ease  with  which  he  baffles  and  plagues  the  old  fox  shows  how 
much  craftier  one  can  be  who  scorns  craft,  than  one  who 
courts  it. 

Habits  of  intrigue  having  extinguished  in  Polonius  the 
powers  of  honest  insight  and  special  discernment,  he  there- 
foi-e  perceives  not  the  unfitness  of  his  old  methods  to  the 
new  exigency ;  while  at  the  same  time  his  faith  in  the 
craft,  hitherto  found  so  successful,  stuifs  him  with  over- 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  introduction 

weening  assurance.  Hence,  also,  that  singular  but  most 
characteristic  specimen  of  grannyism,  namely,  his  pedantic 
and  impertinent  dallying  with  artful  turns  of  thought  and 
speech  amidst  serious  business;  where  he  appears  not  un- 
like a  certain  person  who  "could  speak  no  sense  in  sev- 
eral languages."  Superannuated  politicians,  indeed,  like 
him,  seldom  have  any  strength  but  as  they  fall  back  upon 
the  resources  of  memory:  out  of  these,  the  ashes,  so  to 
speak,  of  extinct  faculties,  they  may  seem  wise  after  the 
fountains  of  wisdom  are  dried  up  within  them ;  as  a  man 
who  has  lost  his  sight  may  seem  to  distinguish  colors,  so 
long  as  he  refrains  from  speaking  of  the  colors  that  are  be- 
fore him. 

Of  all  Shakespeare's  heroines,  the  impression  of  Ophelia 
Is  perhaps  the  most  difficult  of  analysis,  partly  because  she 
is  so  real,  partly  because  so  undeveloped.  Like  Cordelia, 
she  is  brought  forward  but  little  in  the  play,  yet  the  whole 
play  seems  full  of  her.  Her  very  silence  utters  her:  un- 
seen, she  is  missed,  and  so  thought  of  the  more:  when  ab- 
sent in  person,  she  is  still  present  in  effect,  by  what  others 
bring  from  her.  Whatsoever  grace  comes  from  Polonius 
and  the  Queen  is  of  her  inspiring:  Laertes  is  scarce  re- 
garded but  as  he  loves  his  sister:  of  Hamlet's  soul,  too,  she 
is  the  sunrise  and  morning  hymn.  The  soul  of  innocence 
and  gentleness,  wisdom  seems  to  radiate  from  her  insensibly, 
as  fragrance  is  exhaled  from  flowers.  It  is  in  such  forms 
that  heaven  most  frequently  visits  us ! 

Ophelia's  situation  much  resembles  Imogen's ;  their  char- 
acters are  in  marked  contrast.  Both  appear  amid  the  cor- 
ruptions of  a  wicked  court ;  Ophelia  escapes  them  by  in- 
sensibility of  their  presence,  Imogen,  by  determined  re- 
sistance :  The  former  is  unassailable  in  her  innocence ;  the 
latter,  unconquerable  in  her  strength :  Ignorance  protects 
Ophelia,  knowledge,  Imogen :  The  conception  of  vice  has 
scarce  found  its  way  into  Ophelia's  mind;  in  Imogen  the 
dail}^  perception  of  vice  has  called  for  a  power  to  repel  it. 
In  Ophelia,  again,  as  in  Desdemona,  the  comparative  want 
of  intelligence,  or  rather  intellectuality,  is  never  felt  as  a 


Introduction  TRAGEDY  OF  HAJVILET 

defect.  She  fills  up  the  idea  of  excellence  just  as  com- 
pletely as  if  she  had  the  intellect  of  Shakespeare  himself. 
In  the  rounded  equipoise  of  her  character  we  miss  not  the 
absent  element,  because  there  is  no  vacancy  to  be  supplied; 
and  high  intellect  would  strike  us  rather  as  a  superfluity 
than  a  supplement ;  its  voice  would  rather  drown  than  com- 
plete the  harmony  of  the  other  tones. 

Ophelia  is  exhibited  in  the  utmost  ripeness  and  mellow- 
ness, both  of  soul  and  sense,  to  impressions  from  without. 
With  her  susceptibilities  just  opening  to  external  objects, 
her  thoughts  are  so  engaged  on  these  as  to  leave  no  room 
for  self-contemplation.     This   exceeding   impressibility   is 
the  source  at  once  of  her  beauty  and  her  danger.     From 
the  lips  and  e3'es  of  Hamlet  she  has  drunk  in  pledges  of 
his  love,  but  has  never  heard  the  voice  of  her  own ;  and 
knows  not  how  full  her  heart  is  of  Hamlet,  because  she  has 
not  a  single  thought  or  feeling  there  at  strife  with  him. 
Mrs.  Jameson  rightly  says,  "she  is  far  more  conscious  of 
being  loved  than  of  loving;  and  yet  loving  in  the  silent 
depths  of  her  young  heart  far  more  than  she  is  loved." 
For  it  is  a  singular  fact  that,  though  from  Hamlet  we  have 
many   disclosures,   and   from    Ophelia   only    concealments, 
there  has  been  much  doubt  of  his  love,  but  never  any  of 
hers.      Ophelia's   silence  as  to  her  own  passion   has   been 
sometimes  misderived  from  a  wish  to  hide  it  from  others ; 
but,  in  truth,   she  seems  not  to  be  aware   of  it  herself; 
and  she  unconsciously  betrays  it  in  the  modest  reluctance 
w^ith  which  she  yields  up  the  secret  of  Hamlet's  courtship. 
The  extorted  confession  of  what  she  has  received  reveals 
how  much  she  has  given ;  the  soft  tremblings  of  her  bosom 
being   made  the   plainer  by   the   delicate   lawn   of  silence 
thrown  over  it.     Even  when  despair  is  wringing  her  inno- 
cent young  soul  into  an  utter  wreck,  she  seems  not  to  know 
the  source  of  her  affliction ;  and  the  truth  comes  out  only 
when  her  sweet  mind,  which  once  breathed  such  enchanting 
music,  lies  broken  in  fragments  before  us,  and  the  secrets 
of  her  maiden  heart  are  hovering  on  her  demented  tongue. 
One  of  the  bitterest  ingredients  in  poor  Ophelia's  cup  is 

xlviii 


PRINCE    OF   DENMARK  Introduction 

the  belief  that  by  her  repulse  of  Hamlet  she  has  dismantled 
his  fair  and  stately  house  of  reason ;  and  when,  forgetting 
the  wounds  with  which  her  own  pure  spirit  is  bleeding, 
over  the  spectacle  of  that  "unmatch'd  form  and  feature  of 
blown  youth  blasted  with  ecstacy,"  she  meets  his,  "I  loved 
you  not,"  with  the  despairing  sigh,  "I  was  the  more  de- 
ceived," we  see  that  she  feels  not  the  sundering  of  the  ties 
that  bind  her  sweetly-tempered  faculties  in  harmony.  Yet 
we  blame  not  Hamlet,  for  he  is  himself  but  a  victim  of  an 
inexorable  power  which  is  spreading  its  ravages  through 
him  over  another  life  as  pure  and  heavenly  as  his  own. 
Standing  on  the  verge  of  an  abyss  which  is  yawning  to  en- 
gulf himself,  his  very  effort  to  frighten  her  back  from 
it  only  hurries  her  in  before  him.  To  snatch  another  jewel 
from  Mrs.  Jameson's  casket, — "He  has  no  thought  to  link 
his  terrible  destiny  with  hers :  he  cannot  marry  her :  he  can- 
not reveal  to  her,  young,  gentle,  innocent  as  she  is,  the 
terrific  influences  which  have  changed  the  whole  current  of 
his  life  and  purposes.  In  his  distraction  he  overacts  the 
painful  part  to  which  he  has  tasked  himself ;  like  that  judge 
of  the  Areopagus  who,  being  occupied  with  graver  mat- 
ters, flung  from  him  the  little  bird  which  had  sought  refuge 
in  his  bosom,  and  with  such  angry  violence,  that  he  unwit- 
tingly killed  it." 

Ophelia's  insanity  exhausts  the  fountains  of  human  pity. 
It  is  one  of  those  mysterious  visitings  over  which  we  can 
only  brood  in  silent  sympathy  and  awe  ;  which  Heaven  alone 
has  a  heart  adequately  to  pity,  and  a  hand  effectually  to 
heal.  Its  pathos  were  too  much  to  be  borne,  but  for  the 
sweet  incense  that  rises  from  her  crushed  spirit,  as  "she 
turns  thought  and  affliction,  passion,  hell  itself,  to  favor 
and  to  prettiness."  Of  her  death  what  shall  be  said.''  The 
victim  of  crimes  in  which  she  has  no  share  but  as  a  suf- 
ferer, we  hail  with  joy  the  event  that  snatches  her  from 
the  rack  of  this  world.  The  "snatches  of  old  lauds,"  with 
which  she  chaunts,  as  it  were,  her  own  burial  service,  are 
like  smiles  gushing  from  the  very  heart  of  woe.  We  must 
leave  her,  with  the  words  of  Hazlitt:     "O,  rose  of  May! 

xlix 


Introduction  TRAGEDY  OF  HA:MLET 

O,  flower  too  soon  faded !  Her  love,  her  madness,  her 
death,  are  described  with  the  truest  touches  of  tenderness 
and  pathos.  It  is  a  character  which  nobody  but  Shake- 
speare could  have  drawn  in  the  way  that  he  has  done ;  and 
to  the  conception  of  which  there  is  not  the  smallest  ap- 
proach, except  in  some  of  the  old  romantic  ballads." 

The  Queen's  affection  for  this  lovely  being  is  one  of 
those  unexpected  strokes,  so  frequent  in  Shakespeare,  which 
surprise  us  into  reflection  by  their  naturalness.  That 
Ophelia  should  disclose  a  vein  of  goodness  in  the  Queen, 
was  necessary  perhaps  to  keep  us  both  from  underrating 
the  influence  of  the  one,  and  from  exaggerating  the  wick- 
edness of  the  other.  The  love  which  she  thus  awakens  tells 
us  that  her  helplessness  springs  from  innocence,  not  from 
weakness ;  and  so  serves  to  prevent  the  pity  which  her  con- 
dition moves  from  lessening  the  respect  due  to  her  charac- 
ter. 

Almost  any  other  author  would  have  depicted  Gertrude 
without  a  single  alleviating  trait  in  her  character.  Beau- 
mont and  Fletcher  would  probablj^  have  made  her  simply 
frightful  or  loathsome,  and  capable  only  of  exciting  ab- 
horrence or  disgust ;  if,  indeed,  in  her  monstrous  depravity 
she  had  not  rather  failed  to  excite  any  feeling.  Shake- 
speare, with  far  more  eff'ect  as  well  as  far  more  truth,  ex- 
hibits her  with  such  a  mixture  of  good  and  bad,  as  neither 
disarms  censure  nor  precludes  pity.  Herself  dragged 
along  in  the  terrible  train  of  consequences  which  her  own 
guilt  had  a  hand  in  starting,  she  is  hurried  away  into  the 
same  dreadful  abyss  along  with  those  whom  she  loves,  and 
against  whom  she  has  sinned.  In  her  tenderness  towards 
Hamlet  and  Ophelia,  we  recognize  the  virtues  of  the  mother 
without  in  the  least  palliating  the  guilt  of  the  wife ;  while 
the  crimes  in  which  she  is  an  accomplice  almost  disappear 
in  those  of  which  she  is  the  victim. 

The  plan  of  this  drama  seems  to  consist  in  the  persons 
being  represented  as  without  plans ;  for,  as  Goethe  hap- 
pily remarks,  "the  hero  is  without  any  plan,  but  the  play 
itself  is  full  of  plan."     As  the  action,  so  far  as  there  is 

1 


PRIXCE  OF  DENINIARK  introduction 

any,  is  shaped  and  determined  rather  for  the  characters 
than  from  them,  all  their  energies  could  the  better  be  trans- 
lated into  thought.  Hence  of  all  the  Poet's  dramas  this 
probably  combines  the  greatest  strength  and  diversity  of 
faculties.  Sweeping  round  the  v/hole  circle  of  human 
thought  and  passion,  its  alternations  of  amazement  and  ter- 
ror ;  of  lust,  ambition,  and  remorse ;  of  hope,  love,  friend- 
ship, anguish,  madness,  and  despair ;  of  wit,  humor,  pathos, 
poetry,  and  philosophy ;  now  congealing  the  blood  with 
horror,  now  melting  the  heart  with  pity,  now  launching  the 
mind  into  eternity,  now  startling  conscience  from  her  lonely 
seat  with  supernatural  visitings  ; — it  unfolds  indeed  a  world 
of  truth,  and  beauty,  and  sublimity. 

Of  its  varied  excellences,  only  a  few  of  the  less  obvious 
need  be  specified.  The  platform  scenes  are  singularly 
charged  with  picturesque  effect.  The  chills  of  a  northern 
winter  midnight  seem  creeping  on  us,  as  the  heart-sick  senti- 
nels pass  in  view,  and,  steeped  in  moonlight  and  drowsi- 
ness, exchange  their  meeting  and  parting  salutations.  The 
thoughts  and  images  that  rise  in  their  minds  are  just  such 
as  the  anticipation  of  preternatural  visions  w  ould  be  likely 
to  inspire.  As  the  bitter  cold  stupefies  their  senses,  an  in- 
describable feeling  of  dread  and  awe  steals  over  them,  pre- 
paring the  mind  to  realize  its  own  superstitious  imaginings. 
And  the  feeling  one  has  in  reading  these  scenes  is  not  un- 
like that  of  a  child  passing  a  graveyard  by  moonlight. 
Out  of  the  dim  and  drowsy  moonbeams  apprehension  cre- 
ates its  own  objects;  his  fancies  embody  themselves  in  sur- 
rounding facts ;  his  fears  give  shape  to  outward  things, 
while  those  things  give  outwardness  to  his  fears. — The 
heterogeneous  elements  that  are  brought  together  in  the 
grave-digging  scene,  with  its  strange  mixture  of  songs  and 
witticisms  and  dead  men's  bones,  and  its  still  stranger  tran- 
sitions of  the  grave,  the  sprightly,  the  meditative,  the 
solemn,  the  playful,  and  the  grotesque,  make  it  one  of  the 
most  wonderful  yet  most  natural  scenes  in  the  drama. — In 
view  of  the  terrible  catastrophe,  Goethe  has  the  following 
weighty  sentence:     "It  is  the  tendency  of  crime  to  spread 

li 


Introduction  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

its  evils  over  innocence,  as  it  is  of  virtue  to  diffuse  its 
blessings  over  many  who  deserve  them  not ;  while,  fre- 
quently, the  author  of  the  one  or  of  the  other  is  not,  so  far 
as  we  can  see,  punished  or  rewarded." 


lii 


COMMENTS 

By  Shakespearean  Scholars 

THE  CHARACTER  OF  HAMLET 

i  The  character  of  Hamlet  stands  quite  by  itself.  It  is 
not  a  character  marked  by  strength  of  will  or  even  of 
passion,"  but  by  refinement  of  thought  and  sentiment. 
Hamlet  is  as  little  of  the  hero  as  a  man  can  well  be:  but 
he  is  a  young  and  princely  novice,  full  of  high  enthusiasm 
and  quick  sensibility — the  sport  of  circumstances,  question- 
ing with  fortune  and  refining  on  his  own  feelings,  and 
forced  from  the  natural  bias  of  his  disposition  by  the 
strangeness  of  his  situation.  He  seems  incapable  of  de- 
liberate action,  and  is  only  hurried  into  extremities  on  the 
spur  of  the  occasion,  when  he  has  no  time  to  reflect,  as  in 
the  scene  where  he  kills  Polonius,  and  again,  where  he  al- 
ters the  letters  which  Rosencrantz  and  Guildenstern  are  tak- 
ing with  them  to  England,  purporting  his  death.  At  other 
times,  when  he  is  most  bound  to  act,  he  remains  puzzled, 
undecided,  and  sceptical,  dallies  with  his  purposes,  till  the 
occasion  is  lost,  and  filnds  out  some  pretense  to  relapse  into 
indolence  ahd  thoughtfulness  again.  For  this  reason  he 
refuses  to  kill  the  King  when  he  is  at  his  prayers,  and  by 
a  refinement  in  malice,  which  is  in  truth  only  an  excuse  for 
his  own  want  of  resolution,  defers  his  revenge  to  a  more 
fatal  opportunity,  when  he  shall  be  engaged  in  some  act 

'  "that  has  no  relish  of  salvation  in  it." 

He  is  the  prince  of  philosophical  speculators;  and  be- 
cause he  cannot  have  his  revenge  perfect,  according  to  the 
most  refined  idea  his  wish  can  form,  he  declines  it  alto- 
gether. So  he  scruples  to  trust  the  suggestions  of  the 
ghost,  contrives  the  scene  of  the  play  to  have  surer  proof 

Hii 


Comments  TRAGEDY  OF  HAIMLET 

of  his  uncle's  guilt,  and  then  rests  satisfied  with  this  con- 
firmation of  his  sui^picionsj  and  the  success  of  his  experi- 
ment, instead  of  acting  upon  it.  Yet  he  is  sensible  of  his 
own  weakness,  taxes  himself  with  it,  and  tries  to  reason  him- 
self out  of  it. 

Still  he  does  notMng;  and  this  very  speculation  on  his 
own  infirmity  only  affords  him  another  occasion  for  in- 
dulging it.  It  is  not  from  any  want  of  attachment  to 
his  father  or  of  abhorrence  of  his  murder  that  Hamlet  is 
thus  dilatory,  but  it  is  more  to  his  taste  to  indulge  his  im- 
agination in  reflecting  upon  the  enormity  of  the  crime  and 
refining  on  his  schemes  of  vengeance,  than  to  put  them  into^ 
immediate  practice.  His  ruling  passion  is  to  think,  not 
toact :  and  any  vague  pretext  that  flatters  this  propensity 
instantlj^  diverts  him  from  his  previous  purposes. — Haz- 
LiTT,  Characters  of  Shakespear's  Plays. 

THE  MOOD  OF  HAMLET 

The  mood  of  Hamlet  is  necessarilj^  an  extraordinary  and 
an  unaccountable  mood.  In  him  exceptional  influences 
agitate  an  exceptional  temperament.  He  is  wayward,  fit- 
ful, excited,  horror-stricken.  The  foundations  of  his  be- 
ing are  unseated.  His  intellect  and  his  will  are  ajar  and 
unbalanced.  He  has  become  an  exception  to  the  common 
forms  of  humanity.  The  poet,  in  his  turn,  struck  with  this 
strange  figure,  seems  to  have  resolved  on  bringing  its  spe- 
cial peculiarities  into  special  prominence,  and  the  story 
which  he  dramatized  afforded  him  the  most  ample  oppor- 
tunity of  accomplishing  this  design.  Hamlet  is  not  only 
in  realit}^  agitated  and  bewildered,  but  he  is  led  to  adopt  a 
disguise  of  feigned  madness,  and  he  is  thus  perpetuall}'  in- 
tensifying and  distorting  the  peculiarities  of  an  already 
over-excited  imagination.  It  was,  we  think,  inevitable  that 
a  composition  which  attempted  to  follow  the  workings  of 
so  unusual  an  individuality  should  itself  seem  abrupt  and 
capricious ;  and  this  natural  effect  of  the  scene  is  still 
further  deepened  not  only  by  th^^  exceptionally  large  genius, 

liv 


PRINCE    OF    DENMARK  Comments 

but  by  the  exceptionally  negligent  workmanship,   of  the 
poet. — Kenny,  The  Life  and  Genius   of  Shakespeare. 

*      THE  PRINCIPLE  OF  HAMLET'S  ACTION 

The  mind  of  Hamlet,  violently  agitated  and  filled  with 
displeasing  and  painful  images,  loses  all  sense  of  felicity. 
He  even  wishes  for  a  change  of  being.  The  appearance 
is  wonderful,  and  leads  us  to  inquire  into  affections  and 
opinions  that  could  render  him  despondent.  The  death  of 
his  father  was  a  natural  evil,  and  as  such  he  endures  it. 
That  he  is  excluded  from  succeeding  immediately  to  the 
royalty  seems  to  affect  him  slightly ;  for  to  vehement  and 
vain  ambition  he  appears  superior.  He  is  moved  by  finer 
principles,  by  an  exquisite  sense  of  virtue,  of  moral  beauty 
and  turpitude.  The  impropriety  of  Gertrude's  behavior,  I 
her  ingratitude  to  the  memory  of  her  former  husband  and/ 
the  depravity  she  discovers  in  the  choice  of  a  successor,  af-l 
flict  his  soul,  and  cast  him  into  utter  agony.  Here,  thenj 
is  the  principle  and  spring  of  all  his  actions. — Richard- 
son, Essays  on  Some  of  Shakespeare's  Dramatic  Charac- 
ters. 

THE  INSANITY  OF  HAMLET 

But  let  it  be  remembered  that  in  those  days  mental  phe- 
nomena were  by  no  means  accurately  examined  or  gener- 
ally known.  There  was  but  little  attention  paid  to  the 
peculiar  forms  of  monomania,  or  to  its  treatment,  beyond 
restraint  and  often  cruelty.  The  poor  idiot  was  allowed, 
if  harmless,  to  wander  about  the  village  or  the  country  to 
drivel  or  gibber  amidst  the  teasing  or  ill-treatment  of  boys 
or  rustics.  The  poor  maniac  was  chained  or  tied  in  some 
wretched  outhouse,  at  the  mercy  of  some  heartless  guard- 
ian, with  no  protector  but  the  constable.  Shakespeare 
could  not  be  supposed,  in  the  little  town  of  Statford,  nor 
indeed  in  London  itself,  to  have  had  opportunities  of  study- 
ing the  influence  and  the  appearance  of  mental  derange- 
ment of  a  high-minded  and  finely-cultivated  prince.     How 

iv 


Comments  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

then  did  Shakespeare  contrive  to  point  so  highly-finished 
and  yet  so  complex  an  image?  Simply  by  the  exercise  of 
that  strong  sympathetic  will  which  enabled  him  to  trans- 
port, or  rather  to  transmute,  himself  into  another  person- 
ality. While  this  character  was  strongly  before  him,  he 
changed  himself  into  a  maniac ;  he  felt  intuitively  what 
would  be  his  own  thought,  what  his  feelings,  were  he  in  that 
situation ;  he  played  with  himself  the  part  of  a  madman, 
with  his  own  grand  mind  as  the  basis  of  its  action ;  he 
grasped  on  every  side  the  imagery  which  he  felt  would 
have  come  into  his  mind,  beautiful  even  when  dislorded,  sub- 
lime even  when  it  was  grovelling,  brilliant  even  when 
dulled,  and  clothed  it  in  words  of  fire  and  tenderness,  with 
a  varied  rapidity  which  partakes  of  wildness  and  of  sense. 
/He  needed  not  to  look  for  a  model  out  of  himself,  for  it 
Icost  him  no  more  effort  to  change  the  angle  of  his  mirror, 
/and  sketch  his  own  countenance  awry.  It  was  but  little 
I  for  him  to  pluck  away  the  crown  from  reason  and  con 
/template  it  dethroned. — Wiseman,  William  Shakespeare. 

The  very  exhortations  to  secrecy,  shown  to  be  so  im- 
portant in  Hamlet's  imagination,  are  but  illustrations  of 
one  part  of  his  character,  and  must  be  recognizable  as  such 
by  all  physicians  intimately  acquainted  with  the  begin- 
nings of  insanity.  It  is  by  no  means  unf requent  that  when 
the  disease  is  only  incipient,  and  especially  in  men  of  exer- 
cised minds,  that  the  patient  has  an  uneasy  consciousness 
of  his  own  departure  from  a  perfectly  sound  understand- 
ing. He  becomes  aware  that,  however  he  may  refuse  to  ac- 
knowledge it,  his  command  over  his  thoughts  or  his  words 
is  not  steadily  maintained,  whilst  at  the  same  time  he  has 
not  wholly  lost  control  over  either.  Hig_suspects  that  he 
is  susii&d£d.  and  anyinusly  and  inpi-pninnsly  a^rnnntg  fxtr 
his  oddities.  Sometimes  he  challenges  inquiry,  and  courts 
various  tests  of  his  sanity,  and  sometimes  he  declares  that 
in  doing  extravagant  things  he  has  only  been  pretending 
to  be  eccentric,  in  order  to  astonish  the  fools  about  him 

Ivi 


\ 


PRINCE    OF    DENMARK  Comments 

and  who  he  knew  were  watching  him.  The  young  Hamlet 
has  suddenly  become  a  changed  man.  The  curse  of  mad- 
ness,— ever  fatal  to  beauty,  to  order,  to  happiness, — has 
fallen  upon  him;  deep  vexation  has  undermined  his  reason, 
and  thoughts  beyond  the  reaches  of  his  soul  have  agitated 
him  beyond  a  cure.  His  affections  are  in  disorder,  and  the 
disorder  will  increase ;  so  that  he  will  become  by  turns  sus- 
picious and  malicious,  impulsive  and  reflective,  pensive  and 
facetious,  and  undergo  all  the  transformations  of  the  most 
afflicting  of  human  maladies. — Conolly,  A  Study  of  Ham- 
let. 

Shakespeare recognized  what  none  of  his  crit- 
ics, not  conversant  with  medical  psychology  in  its  present 
advanced  state,  seem  to  have  any  conception  of;  namely, 
that  there  are  cases  of  melancholic  madness  of  a  delicate 
shade,  in  which  the  reasoning  faculties,  the  intellect  proper,^ 
so  far  from  being  overcoine,  or  even  disordered,  may,  on 
the  other  hand,  be  rendered  more  active  and  yi'gnroi^g  while 
the  will,  the  moral  feelings,  the  sentiments  and  affections, 
are  the  faculties  which  seem  alone  to  suffex  from  the  stroke 
of  disease.  Such  a  case  he  has  given  us  in  the  character 
of  Hamlet,  with  a  fidelity  to  nature  which  continues  more 
and  more  to  excite  our  wonder  and  astonishment  as  our 
knowledge  of  this  intricate  subject  advances. — Kellogg, 
Shakespeare's  Delineations  of  Insanity,  Imbecility  and 
Suicide. 

The  majority  of  readers  at  the  present  day  believe  that 
Hamlet's  madness  was  real A  madness  so  skil- 
fully feigned,  and  in  so  moderate  and  exact  a  degree  as 
to  deceive  not  only  those  whom  it  was  intended  to  deceive, 
but  also  to  deceive  alike  spectators  and  readers,  who  are 
always  privileged  to  know  more  of  the  action  and  the  real 
characters  in  a  play  than  do  the  personages  themselves, — 
such  a  feigned  madness  serves  to  make  a  plot  more  in- 
genious and  interesting  than  it  would  be  if  the  hero's  men- 

Ivii 


Comn.ents  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

tal  aberration  had  been  made  to  appear  unmistakably  real. 
- — Stearns,  The  Shakespeare  Treasury  of  Wit  and  Knowl- 
edge. 

One  of  the  probable  causes  of  Hamlet's  feigning  of  mad- 
ness has  never  yet  been  indicated  by  the  critics.  Hamlet, 
it  is  said,  played  the  madman  to  hide  his  thought,  like 
Brutus.  In  fact,  it  is  easy  to  cover  a  great  purpose  under 
apparent  imbecility ;  the  supposed  idiot  carries  out  his  de- 
signs at  his  leisure.  But  the  case  of  Brutus  is  not  that 
of  Hamlet.  Hamlet  plays  the  madman  for  his  safety. 
Brutus  cloaks  his  project;  Hamlet,  his  person.  The  man- 
ners of  these  tragic  courts  being  understood,  from  the 
moment  that  Hamlet  learns  from  the  ghost  of  the  crime  of 
Claudius,  Hamlet  is  in  danger.  The  superior  historian 
that  is  in  the  poet  is  here  manifest,  and  we  perceive  in 
Shakespeare  the  profound  penetration  into  the  dark  shades 
of  ancient  royalty.  In  the  Middle  Ages  and  in  the  latter 
empire,  and  even  more  anciently,  woe  to  him  who  dis- 
covered a  murder  or  a  poisoning  committed  by  a  king. 
Ovid,  Voltaire  conjectured,  was  exiled  from  Rome  for  hav- 
ing seen  something  shameful  in  the  hotfse  of  AugTistus. 
To  know  that  the  king  was  an  assassin  was  treason.  When 
it  pleased  the  prince  to  have  no  witness,  one  must  be  shrewd 
enough  to  know  nothing.  It  was  bad  policy  to  have  good 
eyes.  A  man  suspected  of  suspicion  was  lost.  He  had 
only  one~reIuge,  insanity.  Passing  for  an  "innocent"  he 
was  despised,  and  all  was  said. — Victor  Hugo,  William 
Shakespeare. 

The  question  of  Hamlet's  madness  has  been  much  dis- 
cussed and  variously  decided.  High  medical  authority  has 
pronounced,  as  usual,  on  both  sides  of  the  question.  But 
the  induction  has  been  drawn  from  too  narrow  premises, 
being  based  on  a  mere  diagnosis  of  the  case,  and  not  on 
an  appreciation  of  the  character  in  its  completeness.  We 
have  a  case  of  pretended  madness  in  the  Edgar  of  King 
Lear;  and  it  is  certainly  ti*ue  that  that  is  a  charcoal  sketch, 

Iviii 


PRINCE    OF   DENMARK  Comments 

coarsely  outlined,  compared  with  the  delicate  drawing,  the 
lights,  shades,  and  half -tints  of  the  portraiture  in  Ham- 
let. But  does  this  tend  to  prove  that  the  madness  of  the 
latter,  because  truer  to  the  recorded  observation  of  experts, 
is  real,  and  meant  to  be  real,  as  the  other  to  be  fictitious? 
Not  in  the  least,  as  it  appears  to  me.  Hamlet,  among  all 
the  characters  of  Shakespeare,  is  the  most  eminently  a 
metaphysician  and  psychologist.  He  is  a  close  observer, 
continually  analyzing  his  own  nature  and  that  of  others, 
letting  fall  his  little  drops  of  acid  irony  on  all  who  come 
near  him,  to  make  them  show  what  they  are  made  of.  Even 
Ophelia  is  not  too  sacred,  Osric  not  too  contemptible,  for 
experiment.  If  such  a  man  assumed  madness,  he  would 
play  his  part  perfectly.  If  Shakespeare  himself,  without 
going  mad,  could  so  observe  and  remember  all  the  abnormal 
symptoms  as  to  be  able  to  reproduce  them  in  Hamlet,  why 
should  it  be  beyond  the  power  of  Hamlet  to  reproduce 
them  in  himself?  If  you  deprive  Hamlet  of  reason,  there 
is  no  truly  magic  motive  left.  He  would  be  a  fit  subject 
for  Bedlam,  but  not  for  the  stage.  We  might  have 
pathology  enough,  but  no  pathos — Ajax  first  becomes 
tragic  when  he  recovers  his  wits.  If  Hamlet  is  irrespon- 
sible, the  whole  play  is  chaos.  That  he  is  not  might  be 
proven  by  evidence  enough  were  it  not  labor  thrown  away. 
— Lowell,  Among  My  Books. 

But  how  this  has  ever  come  to  be  a  matter  of  dispute 
we  are  at  a  loss  to  understand.  Had  Hamlet  kept  his  in- 
tention to  play  the  madman  to  himself,  there  would  have 
been  room  for  doubt ;  but  after  having  taken  Horatio  and 
Marcellus  into  his  confidence,  by  stating  plainly  his  resolve 
to  behave  himself  like  a  madman,  it  is  inconceivable  how 
any  misconception  of  the  proper  reading  should  exist.  It 
is  no  proof  that  his  madness  is  real  to  say  that  the  King, 
Queen,  Polonius,  and  others,  think  and  say  he  is  mad ;  this 
onl}^  proves  he  imitated  madness  well  when  he  succeeded  in 
creating  this  belief.  When  David  scrabbled  on  the  doors 
of  the  gate  at  Gath,  and  let  his  spittle  fall  upon  his  beard, 


Comments  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

was  he  mad  ?  Surely  not.  But  Achlsh  and  others  thought 
him  mad.  So  it  is  in  the  present  case;  such  proof  is  no 
proof,  and  is  not  entitled  to  a  moment's  consideration. 
There  is  not  a  whisper  of  Hamlet's  madness  up  to  the  time 
when  he  warns  his  friends,  in  future,  to  take  no  heed  of  his 
acts, — not  even  from  Polonius.  The  impression  of  his 
madness  is  created  by  his  acts  subsequent  to  this  warning. 
In  all  his  soliloquies,  in  his  conversation  with  Horatio,  in 
his  instruction  to  the  Players,  in  his  interview  with  his 
mother,  in  his  letter  to  Horatio,  there  is  not  the  slightest 
trace  of  unreason,  while  his  interviews  with  the  King, 
Polonius,  Ophelia,  Rosencrantz  and  Guildenstern,  are  in- 
variably and  unmistakably  associated  with  speech  or  ac- 
tions resembling  madness.  Now,  if  Hamlet  was  really 
mad  he  never  could  have  preserved  such  an  entire  consis- 
tency throughout  his  behavior  to  so  many  people,  only  act- 
ing like  a  madman  to  those  whom  he  wished  to  deceive. — 
Meadows,  Hamlet:  An  Essay. 

IF 

Hamlet,  Prince  of  Denmark,  was  speculative  and  irreso- 
lute, and  we  have  a  great  tragedy  in  consequence.  But  if 
his  father  had  lived  to  a  good  old  age,  and  his  uncle  had 
died  an  early  death,  we  can  conceive  Hamlet's  having  mar- 
ried Ophelia,  and.^t  through  life  with  a  reputation  of  san- 
ity, notwithstanding  many  soliloquies,  and  moody  sarcasms 
towards  the  fair  daughter  of  Polonius,  to  say  nothing  of 
frankest  incivihty  to  his  father-in-law. — George  Eliot, 
The  Mill  on  tlie  Floss. 

OPHELIA 

Still  waters  are  deep  is  true  of  Ophelia,  and :  no  fire,  no 
coal,  so  hotly  glows,  as  the  secret  love  of  which  nobody 
knows.  Thoroughly  German,  old  German,  is  she  in  her 
household  relations.  Her  obedience  as  a  daughter  is  im- 
plicit ;  only  to  her  brother,  who  warns  her,  does  she  reply 

Ix 


PRINCE    OF   DENMARK  Comments 

with  the  dry  coohicss  whicii  belongs  to  true  natures,  and 
which  is  also  apparent,  in  the  first  scenes,  in  Cordelia  and 
Desdemona.  We  know  not  what  it  costs  her  when  she 
promises  obedience  to  her  father's  stricter  and  weightier 
authority,  "I  will  obey,  sir" ;  further  she  says  nothing. 
What  is  passing  within  her  a  good  actress  must  tell  us 
by  a  tone  that  reveals  to  us  that  under  this  obedience  her 
heart  is  breaking,  when  she  says,  "With  almost  all  the 
holy  vows  of  Heaven."  In  this  patriarchal  submission  to 
her  father,  in  this  touching  defencelessness,  this  inability 
of  resistance,  which  characterizes  natures  that  are  bound- 
lessly good  and  created  only  for  love,  she  allows  herself 
without  demur  to  be  used,  when  she  is  sent  in  Hamlet's 
way,  that  they  may  talk  together,  while  her  father  and  the 
King  privily  listen ;  Hamlet,  under  the  mask  of  madness, 
treats  her  rudely ;  the  pure  nobleness  of  her  true,  unstained 
tenderness  speaks  in  the  sorrowful  words  with  which  the  re- 
turn of  his  gifts  is  accompanied ;  unsuspicious,  she  believes 
in  his  feigned  madness ;  and  then  her  pain  breaks  out  into 
a  lament  that  points  to  an  abyss  from  which  comes  no 
speech,  ^^he  deepest  tone  of  the  heart,  of  which  a  voice  is 
capable,  is  demanded  in  this  soliloquy ;  there  are  few  tragic 
passages  sadder  or  more  moving  than,  "And  I,  of  ladies 
most  deject  and  wretched,  that  sucked  the  honey  of  his 
music  vows."  If  it  ever  can  be  said  of  a  poetical  creation 
that  it  has  fragrancy  in  it,  it  is  this  picture  of  the  crazed 
Ophelia,  and  the  inmost  secret  of  this  bewitching  fragrancy 
is  innocence.  Nothing  deforms  her;  not  the  lack  of  sense 
in  her  sense,  not  the  rude  naivete  of  those  snatches  of 
song:  a  soft  mist,  a  twilight  is  drawn  around  her,  veiling 
the  rough  reality  of  insanity,  and  in  this  sweet  veil,  this 
dissolving  melancholy,  the  story  of  her  death  is  told. — 
ViscHER,  Kritische  Gauge. 

Beyond  every  character  that  Shakspeare  has  drawn 
(Hamlet  alone  excepted),  that  of  Ophelia  makes  us  for- 
get the  poet  in  his  own  creation.  Whenever  we  bring  her 
to  mind,  it  is  with  the  same  exclusive  sense  of  her  real  ex- 

Ixi 


Comments  TRAGEDY  OF  HAI^ILET 

istence,  without  reference  to  the  wondrous  power  which 
called  her  into  Hfe.  The  effect  (and  what  an  effect!)  is 
produced  b}'  means  so  simple,  by  strokes  so  few,  and  so  un- 
obtrusive, that  we  take  no  thought  of  them.  It  is  so 
purely  natural  and  unsophisticated,  yet  so  profound  in  its 
pathos,  that,  as  Hazlitt  observes,  it  takes  us  back  to  the 
old  ballads ;  we  forget  that,  in  its  perfect  artlessness,  it  is 
the  supreme  and  consummate  triumph  of  art. — Jameson, 
Shakespeare^ s  Heroines. 

With  what  a  small  outlay  of  dramatic  contrivance  has 
Shakspeare  drawn  the  pathos  of  Ophelia's  fate !  It  be- 
gins to  infect  us  as  soon  as  we  discover  that  she  loves ;  for 
her  lover  receives  the  visits  of  a  murdered  father.  We 
know,  but  she  does  not,  the  cause  of  the  apparent  unset- 
tling of  the  Prince's  wits.  We  can  anticipate  into  what 
tragedies  that  ghost  beckons  her  Lord  Hamlet,  while  she 
walks  unconsciously  so  close  that  her  garments,  perfumed 
with  rare  ladyhood,  brush  the  greaves  of  the  grisly  visi- 
tant. Her  helplessness  is  not  cast  in  a  faint  outline  against 
the  background  of  these  palace  treacheries  and  lusts ;  but 
it  appears  in  startling  vividness,  because  she  is  so  pure,  so 
remote  from  all  the  wicked  world,  so  slenderly  fitted  out  to 
contend  with  it.  Tears  are  summoned  when  we  see  how 
simple  she  is,  and  fashioned  solely  for  dependence:  a  dis- 
position, not  a  will ;  a  wife  for  Hamlet's  will,  but  poor  to 
husband  one  of  her  own. 

What  will  become  of  her.''  What  becomes  of  the  vine 
when  lightning  splits  its  oak?  The  clipping  tendrils  and 
soft  green  have  lost  their  reason  for  existing  when  the  wood 
which  centuries  have  grained  is  blasted  in  an  hour.  She 
will  shrink  into  herself,  will  sicken,  grow  sere,  rustle  to  and 
fro.  Her  leaves  will  blab  loose  songs  to  every  wanton 
wind.  To  wither  is  all  that  is  left  to  do,  since  all  that  she 
could  do  was  to  love,  to  climb,  to  cling,  to  cloak  ruggedness 
with  grace,  to  make  strength  and  stature  serve  to  lift  and 
develop  all  her  beauteous  quality. — Weiss,  Wit^  Humor, 
and  Shakespeare. 

Ixii 


PRINCE    OF   DENMARK  Comments 

THE  QUEEN 

The  Queen  is  a  weak  thing ;  she  is  Hamlet's  mother. 
Her  share  in  the  crime  remains  doubtful;  she  is  a  receiver 
of  stolen  goods,  buys  stolen  things  cheap,  and  never  asks  if 
a  theft  has  been  committed.  The  King's  masculine  art 
overpowers  her;  her  son's  lamp  of  conscience,  not  lighted 
until  midnight,  burns  onl}^  until  morning,  and  she  awakes 
with  the  sins  of  the  day  before. — Boerne,  Gesammelte 
Shriften,  Dram.  Blatter. 

The  Queen  was  not  a  bad-hearted  woman,  not  at  all 
the  woman  to  think  little  of  murder.  But  she  had  a  soft 
animal  nature,  and  was  very  dull  and  very  shallow.  She 
loved  to  be  happy,  like  a  sheep  in  the  sun ;  and,  to  do  her 
justice,  it  pleased  her  to  see  others  happy,  like  more  sheep 
in  the  sun.  She  never  saw  that  drunkenness  is  disgusting 
till  Hamlet  told  her  so ;  and,  though  she  knew  that  he  con- 
sidered her  marriage  "o'er-hasty"  (II,  ii,  57),  she  was  un- 
troubled by  any  shame  at  the  feelings  which  had  led  to 
it.  It  was  pleasant  to  sit  upon  her  throne  and  see  smiling 
faces  round  her,  and  foolish  and  unkind  in  Hamlet  to  per- 
sist in  grieving  for  his  father  instead  of  marrying  Ophelia 
and  making  everything  comfortable.  She  was  fond  of 
Ophelia  arid  genuinely  attached  to  her  son  (though  willing 
to  see  her  lover  exclude  him  from  the  throne)  ;  and,  no 
doubt,  she  considered  equality  of  rank  a  mere  trifle  com- 
pared with  the  claims  of  love.  The  belief  at  the  bottom  of 
her  heart  was  that  the  world  is  a  place  constructed  simply 
that  people  may  be  happy  in  it  in  a  good-humored  sensual 
fashion. 

Her  only  chance  was  to  be  made  unhappy.  When  af- 
fliction comes  to  her,  the  good  in  her  nature  struggles  to 
the  surface  through  the  heavy  mass  of  sloth.  Like  other 
faulty  characters  in  Shakespeare's  tragedies,  she  dies  a 
better  woman  than  she  had  lived.  When  Hamlet  shows  her 
what  she  has  done  she  feels  genuine  remorse.  It  is  true, 
Hamlet  fears  it  will  not  last,  and  so  at  the  end  of  the  in- 

Ixiii 


Comments  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

terview  (III,  iv,  180  ff.)  he  adds  a  warning  that  if  she  be- 
trays him,  she  will  ruin  herself  as  well.^  It  is  true  too  that 
there  is  no  sign  of  her  obeying  Hamlet  in  breaking  off  her 
most  intimate  connection  with  the  King.  Still  she  does 
feel  remorse ;  and  she  loves  her  son,  and  does  not  betray 
him.  She  gives  her  husband  a  false  account  of  Polonius's 
death,  and  is  silent  about  the  appearance  of  the  Ghost. 
She  becomes  miserable ; 

To  her  sick  soul,  as  sin's  true  nature  is. 
Each  toy  seems  prologue  to  some  great  amiss. 

She  shows  spirit  when  Laertes  raises  the  mob,  and  one  re- 
spects her  for  standing  up  for  her  husband  when  she  can 
do  nothing  to  help  her  son.  If  she  had  sense  to  realize 
Hamlet's  purpose,  or  the  probability  of  the  King's  taking 
some  desperate  step  to  foil  it,  she  must  have  suffered  tor- 
ture in  those  days.     But  perhaps  she  was  too  dull. 

The  last  we  see  of  her,  at  the  fencing-match,  is  most 
characteristic.  She  is  perfectly  serene.  Things  have 
slipped  back  into  their  groove,  and  she  has  no  apprehen- 
sions. She  is,  however,  disturbed  and  full  of  sj'mpathy  for 
her  son,  who  is  out  of  condition  and  pants  and  perspires. 
These  are  afflictions  she  can  thoroughly  feel  for,  though 
they  are  even  more  common  than  the  death  of  a  father. 
But  then  she  meets  her  death  because  she  cannot  resist  the 
wish  to  please  her  son  by  drinking  to  his  success.  And 
more:  when  she  falls  dying,  and  the  King  tries  to  make 
out  that  she  is  merely  swooning  at  the  sight  of  blood,  she 
collects  her  energies  to  deny  it  and  to  warn  Hamlet : 

No,  no,  the  drink,  the  drink, — O  my  dear  Hamlet, — 

The  drink,  the  drink!     I   am  poison'd.  [Dies. 

Was  ever  any  other  writer  at  once  so  pitiless  and  so  just 
as  Shakespeare.?  Did  ever  any  other  mingle  the  grotesque 
and  the  pathetic  with  a  realism  so  daring  and  yet  so  true 
to  "the  modesty  of  nature"? — Bradley,  Shakespearean 
Tragedy. 

1  /.  e.  the  King  will  Li!l  her  to  make  all  sure. 

Ixiv 


PRINCE   OF   DENMARK  Comments 

POLONIUS 

Polonius  is  the  comic  character  of  the  play.  As  Shake- 
speare advanced  in  art  he  threw  aside  the  rude  merriment 
of  the  clown,  and  contrived  to  satisfy  the  pit's  demand  for 
humor  by  the  introduction  of  a  laughable  character  as  one 
of  the  regular  dramatis  personoe,  and  in  the  earlier  part 
of  Hamlet  this  role  is  played  by  Polonius.  Polonius  is  the 
true  father  of  both  Laertes  and  Ophelia.  Greatness  of 
mind  is  utterly  absent  from  his  system.  He  is  fitted  out 
with  a  stock  of  "old  saws  and  modern  instances,"  which 
serve  as  contrasts  to  the  imbecility  of  his  own  behavior. 
As  a  young  man  he  has  had  the  same  pleasant  trick  of 
lecturing  his  friends  as  Laertes  has  now,  and  it  has  grown 
upon  him.  His  loquaciousness  has  increased  with  his  years. 
In  figure  he  is  ungainly  to  the  point  of  exciting  merriment, 
and  though  Shakespeare  never  raises  laughter  at  mere  de- 
formity, he  makes  the  combination  of  self-satisfied  imbe- 
cility with  ludicrous  incompetence  both  of  mind  and  body 
sufficiently  amusing. — Ransome,  Short  Studies  of  Shake- 
speare's Plots. 

I  see  in  Polonius  a  real  statesman.  Discreet,  politic, 
keen-sighted,  ready  at  the  council  board,  cunning  upon  oc- 
casions, he  had  been  valued  by  the  deceased  King,  and  is 
now  indispensable  to  his  successor.  How  much  he  sus- 
pected as  to  the  death  of  the  former  King,  or  how  sincerely 
he  accepted  that  event,  the  poet  does  not  tell  us.  When 
Polonius  speaks  to  Ophelia  of  her  relations  to  Hamlet,  he 
pretends  ignorance ;  he  has  only  heard  through  others  that 
his  daughter  talks  with  the  prince,  and  often  and  confi- 
dentially. Here  the  cunning  courtier  shows  himself,  for 
the  visits  of  the  prince  to  his  house  could  not  have  been 
unknown  to  him.  But  these  visits  were  made  in  the  time 
of  the  late  King,  and  afterwards  in  the  interregnum  be- 
fore the  new  ruler  ascended  the  throne.  The  election  was 
doubtful;  Hamlet,  as  we  know,  had  the  first  right,  and 
the  prospect  of  becoming  father-in-law  to  the  King  was 

Ixv 


Comments  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

tempting.  But  Hamlet,  who  had  no  faculty  for  availing 
himself  of  circumstances,  or  even  for  maintaining  his  rights, 
allowed  himself  to  be  set  aside,  and  Polonius  saw,  even 
when  the  great  assembly  was  held,  that  Hamlet's  posi- 
tion at  court  was  Hamlet's  own  fault.  Consequently,  for 
double  reasons,  Polonius  forbids  his  daughter  to  have  any 
intercourse  with  the  prince ;  first,  because  the  prince  was 
a  cypher,  and  then  again,  because  the  King  might  become 
suspicious  if  he  learned  that  such  intercourse  existed. — 
TiECK,  Dramaturgische  Blatter. 

ROSENCRANTZ  AND  GUILDENSTERN 

Rosencrantz  and  Guildenstern  are  favorable  samples  of 
the  thorough-paced,  time-serving  court  knave — servants  of 
all-work,  ticketed,  and  to  be  hired  for  any  hard  or  dirty 
job.  Shakespeare  has  at  once,  and  unequivocally,  signified 
his  opinion  of  the  race,  by  making  Rosencrantz,  the  time- 
server,  the  schoolfellow  of  Hamlet,  and,  under  the  color 
of  their  early  associations,  professing  a  personal  friend- 
ship— even  an  affection  for  him,  at  the  very  time  that  he 
had  accepted  the  office  of  spy  upon  his  actions,  and  traitor 
to  his  confidence.  "Good,  my  lord,  what  is  your  cause  of 
distemper?  You  do  surely  but  bar  the  door  upon  your 
own  liberty,  if  you  deny  your  griefs  to  your  friend."  Im- 
mediately upon  the  heel  of  this  protestation  he  accepts  the 
king's  commission  to  convey  his  "friend"  to  England, 
where  measures  had  been  taken  for  his  assassination. 
Rosencrantz  and  his  fellow  would  designate  themselves  as 
thoroughly  "loyal  men" ;  they  make  no  compromise  of 
their  calling ;  the  "broad  R"  is  burnt  into  them ;  they  are 
for  the  king's  service  exclusively:  -.;i,';with  the  scavenger's 
calling,  they  would  scoop  all  into  that  /^servoir.  The  poet 
has  sketched  them  in  few  and  bold  outliiies;  their  subtleties 
of  character  stare  out  like  the  bones  o.^  a  starved  beast. 
They  are  time-servers  by  profession,  and  upon  hire :  and 
"verily  they  have  their  reward."  The  great  Hebrew  legis- 
lator has  said,  "Thou  shalt  not  muzzle  the  ox  that  treadeth 

Ixvi 


PRINCE    OF   DENMARK  Comments 

out  the  corn" ;  but  the  corn  that  such  oxen  tread  out  no 
noble  beast  would  consider  worthy  of  "protective  dut}^" 
at  all.  No  one  works  so  hard  as  a  time-server ;  and,  under 
the  fairest  auspices,  his  labor  is  well  worthy  of  his  pay. 
The  machinery  he  constructs  to  accomplish  his  little  ends, 
is  alwaj's  comphcated  and  eccentric  in  movement — like  the 
Laputan's  invention  for  cutting  a  cabbage,  requiring  a 
horse-power  to  put  it  in  action ;  or  like  the  painstaking  of 
Bardolph,  who  stole  the  lute-case,  carried  it  seven  leagues, 
and  sold  it  for  three-halfpence.  The  same  great  master- 
spirit— Shakespeare — has  made  another  time-server  say, 
"How  wretched  is  that  poor  man  that  hangs  on  princes' 
favors !"  but  how  much  more  wretched  is  that  poor  prince 
who  needs  such  hangers-on  as  Guildenstern  and  Rosen- 
crantz !  What  a  hell  on  earth  has  the  man  who  is  the 
suborner  of  meanness  and  villainy ! — the  constant  sense  of 
subjection — the  instinctive  sense  of  insincerity  and  sham 
respect — the  rising  of  the  gorge  at  the  fawning  and  the 
mouth-honor,  the  self-inspection,  (which  will  come,)  the 
surmises,  the  fears,  the  trepidations,  the  heartaches: 
"Verily,  both  parties  have  their  reward,"  even  here,  "on  this 

bank  and  shoal  of  time." In  the  spirit  of  just 

retribution,  these  two  worthies  fall  into  the  trap  they  had 
set  for  their  old  friend  and  schoolfellow. — Clarke,  Sliake- 
speare-Characters. 

HORATIO 

It  is  commonly  understood  that  Hamlet  and  Horatio 
were  friends  in  the  higher  sense  of  the  word,  but  such  is  not 
the  idea  of  the  poet.  Horatio  is  an  honest,  loyal  subject, 
ver}''  modest,  contented  in  the  humblest  sphere,  without  any 
great  elevation  of  mind,  without  indeed  any  uncommon  de- 
gree of  intellect,  3'et  using  well  all  he  has  learned.  But 
why  has  not  Shakespeare  made  Horatio  a  person  of  high 
intellectual  ability.'*  Because  it  would  have  distorted  the 
whole  piece.  Were  Horatio  a  strong,  able  man,  he  Avould 
either  have  had  an  undue  influence  over  his  friend,  or  he 

Ixvii 


Comments  TRAGEDY  OF  HAJMLET 

would  have  acted  for  him,  and  all  would  have  been  dif- 
ferent. But  as  it  is,  he  does  not  help  the  prince  to  act;  in 
many  respects,  in  acuteness,  wit,  imagination,  eloquence, 
he  stands  below  the  prince,  although  he  excels  him  in  his 
way  of  thinking,  morally  considered.  It  is,  moreover, 
very  tragic  that  the  poor  prince,  among  all  around  him, 
finds  no  greater  friend  than  this  Horatio,  and  must  cling  to 
him,  as  no  other  is  at  hand.  Horatio  is,  however,  at  least 
an  honest  man,  which  is  certainly  very  much;  but  Hamlet 
has  to  console  and  content  himself  with  Horatio's  intel- 
lectual mediocrity.  Perfect  love  and  reverence  he  has  had 
for  one  only,  his  father,  whose  loss  can  never  be  supplied. — 
Horn,  Shakespeare  Erldutert. 

THE  GHOST 

The  Ghost  only  makes  that  an  absolute  certainty  which 
already  existed  as  a  strong  suspicion.  The  Ghost  can 
communicate  only  with  Hamlet,  because  Hamlet  alone  is 
capable  of  believing  in  the  certainty  that  a  crime  had  been 
committed.  The  Ghost  can  appear  also  to  those  who  have 
kept  themselves  free  from  moral  blight,  who  deplore  the 
condition  of  Denmark,  and  who  have  thus  naturally  be- 
come the  adherents  of  the  prince. — Roetshek,  Cyclus 
Dramatischer  Charaktere. 

HAMLET  AS  AN  EXPRESSION   OF   SHAKE- 
SPEARE'S MENTAL  ATTITUDE 

If  Shakespeare's  master-passion  then  was,  as  we  have 
seen  it  to  be,  the  love  of  intellectual  activity'  for  its  own 
sake,  his  continual  satisfaction  with  the  simple  pleasure  of 
existence  must  have  made  him  more  than  commonly  liable 
to  the  fear  of  death,  or  at  least  made  that  change  the  great 
point  of  interest  in  his  hours  of  reflection.  Often  and 
often  must  he  have  thought,  that  to  be  or  not  to  be  for- 
ever was  a  question  which  must  be  settled ;  as  it  is  the  foun- 
dation, and  the  only  foundation,  upon  which  we  feel  that 

Ixviii 


PRINCE    OF   DENMARK  Comments 

thei'e  can  rest  one  thought,  one  feehng,  or  one  purpose 
worthy  of  a  human  soul.  Here  he  the  materials  out  of 
which  this  remarkable  tragedy  was  built  up.  From  the 
wrestling  of  his  own  soul  with  the  great  enemy,  comes  that 
depth  and  mystery  which  startles  us  in  Hamlet.     It  is  to 

this  condition  that  Hamlet  has  been  reduced He 

fears  nothing  save  the  loss  of  existence.  But  this  thought 
thunders  at  the  very  base  of  the  cliff  on  which,  ship- 
wrecked of  every  other  hope,  he  had  been  thrown. — Very, 
Essays  and  Poems. 

MATURITY  OF  THE  PLAY 

To  any  of  the  new  school  of  Victorian  Shakspereans, 
to  any  one  who  has  a  gi'asp  of  Shakspere's  development, 
who  can  trace  the  progi-ess  of  his  INIind  and  Art  from  the 
whimsy  quip  and  quirk,  the  youthful  passion,  the  florid 
rhetoric,  of  his  First-Period  farces,  tragedy,  and  histories, 
from  these  to  the  pathos  of  Constance,  the  grace  of  Portia, 
the  humor  of  FalstafF,  the  wit  of  Benedick  and  Beatrice, 
the  romance  of  Viola,  tlie  steadfastness  of  Helena,  the 
wealth  and  brilliancy  of  Shakspere's  delightful  Second 
Period,  and  thence  to  the  deeper  Tragedies  of  his  Third, — 
to  any  such  man,  no  words  of  mine  are  needed  to  make 
him  sure  that  Hamlet  was  no  creation  of  the  "rough  en- 
thusiasm of  Shakspere's  youth  at  Stratford." — Furni- 
VALL,  Hamlet  in  the  Quarto  Facsimile  of  Shakespeare. 

SUPERIORITY  OF  HAMLET 

Consider  Hamlet  in  whatsoever  light  you  will,  it  stands 
quite  alone,  most  peculiarly  apart,  from  every  other  play 
of  Shakespeare's.  A  vast  deal  has  been  written  upon  the 
subject,  and  by  a  great  number  of  commentators,  by  men 
borne  in  different  countries,  educated  after  different  fash- 
ions  We  might  hope  to  see  a  second  Shakespeare, 

if  the  world  had  ever  produced  a  commentator  worthy  of 
Hamlet.     The  qualities  and  faculties  such  a  man  should 

Ixix 


Comments  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

possess  would  be,  indeed  ''rare  in  their  separate  excellence, 
wonderful  in  their  combinations."  Such  a  man  as  Shake- 
speare imagined  in  him  to  whom  his  hero  bequeathed  the 
task  of:  Reporting  him  and  his  cause  aright  to  the  satis- 
fied."— Magixn,  Shakespeare  Papers. 

Not  one  single  alteration  in  the  whole  play  can  possibly 
have  been  made  with  a  view  to  stage  effect  or  to  present 
popularity  and  profit;  or  we  must  suppose  that  Shake- 
speare, however  great  as  a  man,  was  naturally  even  greater 
as  a  fool.  There  is  a  class  of  mortals  to  whom  this  infer- 
once  is  always  grateful — to  whom  the  fond  belief  that 
ever^'^  great  man  must  needs  be  a  great  fool  would  seem  al- 
ways to  afford  real  comfort  and  support :  happy,  in  Prior's 
phrase,  could  their  inverted  rule  prove  every  great  fool  to 
be  a  great  man.  Every  change  in  the  text  of  Hamlet  has 
impaired  its  fitness  for  the  stage  and  increased  its  value 
for  the  closet  in  exact  and  perfect  proportion.  Now  this 
is  not  a  matter  of  opinion — of  Mr.  Pope's  opinion  or  Mr. 
Carlyle's ;  it  is  a  matter  of  fact  and  evidence.  Even  in 
Sliakespeare's  time  the  actors  threw  out  his  additions ; 
they  throw  out  these  very  same  additions  in  our  own.  The 
one  especial  speech,  if  any  one  such  especial  speech  there 
be,  in  which  the  personal  genius  of  Shakespeare  soars  up 
to  the  very  highest  of  its  height  and  strikes  down  to  very 
deepest  of  its  depth,  is  passed  over  by  modem  actors ;  it 
was  cut  away  by  Hemings  and  Condell.  We  VL\a.y  almost 
assume  it  as  certain  that  no  boards  have  ever  echoed — at 
least,  more  than  once  or  twice — to  the  supreme  soliloquy 
of  Hamlet.  Those  words  which  combine  the  noblest  plead- 
ing ever  proffered  for  the  rights  of  human  reason  with  the 
loftiest  vindication  ever  uttered  of  those  rights,  no  mortal 
ear  within  our  knowledge  has  ever  heard  spoken  on  the 
stage.  A  convocation  even  of  all  priests  could  not  have 
been  more  unhesitatingly  unanimous  in  its  rejection  than 
seems  to  have  been  the  hereditary  verdict  of  all  actors.  It 
could  hardly  have  been  found  worthier  of  theological  than 
it    has    been    found    of    theatrical    condemnation.     Yet, 

Ixx 


PRINCE    OF    DENMARK  Comments 

beyond  all  question,  magnificent  as  is  that  monologue  on 
suicide  and  doubt  which  has  passed  from  a  proverb  into 
a  bjAvord,  it  is  actually  eclipsed  and  distanced  at  once  on 
philosophic  and  on  poetical  grounds  by  the  later  soliloquy 
on  reason  and  resolution. — Swinburne,  A  Study  of  Shake- 
speare. 


Ixxi 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF 
HAMLET,  PRINCE  OF  DENMARK 


-courtiers 


DRAMATIS  PERSONS 

Claudius,  king  of  Denmark 

Hamlet,  son  to  the  late,  and  nephew  to  the  present  king 

PoLOxius,  lord  chamberlain 

"Horatio,  friend  to  Hamlet 

Laertes,  son  to  Polonitis 

VOLTIMAND, 

CoHKELirS, 

ROSEXCRANTZ, 

GUILDENSTERX, 

OSRIC, 

A  Gentleman, 

A  Priest 

Marcellus,  )     _ 
„  >  ofBcers 

Berxardo,  J 

Frax CISCO,  a  soldier 

Reynaldo,  servant  to  Polonius 

Players 

Two  clowns,  grave-diggers 

FoHTixBRAS,  prince  of  Norway 

A  Captain 

English  Ambassadors 

Gertrude,  queen  of  Den/mark,  and  mother  to  Hamlet 
Ophelia,  daughter  to  Polonius 

Lords,    Ladies,    OfBcers,    Soldiers,    Sailors,    Messengers,    and    other 

Attendants 

Ghost  of  Hamlet's  Father 

Scene:  Denmark 


SYNOPSIS 

By  J.  Ellis  Burdick 


ACT    I 


The  ghost  of  Hamlet,  King  of  Denmark,  walks  on  the 
battlements  of  the  castle  of  Kronberg  at  Elsinore  and  is 
seen  by  the  sentinels,  Avho  decide  to  tell  young  Hamlet 
about  it,  believing  that  the  ghost,  though  dumb  to  them, 
will  speak  to  him.  Hamlet  resolves  to  see  it  and  to  speak 
to  it  "though  hell  itself  should  gape  and  bid"  him  "hold 
his  peace,"  The  ghost  tells  how  the  king's  brother 
Claudius  had  murdered  him  that  he  might  obtain  the  throne 
and  marry  the  king's  wife.  Hamlet  promises  to  avenge 
his  father  and  the  ghost  vanishes.  The  sentinels,  who  are 
good  friends  to  the  prince,  are  pledged  to  silence. 


ACT    II 


From  this  time  on,  Hamlet  feigns  madness,  that  no  one 
may  suspect  him  of  serious  plans.  The  king  and  queen, 
not  believing  the  death  of  his  father  sufficient  cause  for 
such  madness,  search  for  another  reason  for  it.  He  writes 
an  incoherent,  passionate  letter  to  Ophelia,  daughter  of  a 
courtier  named  Polonius,  and  this  letter  they  believe  proves 
that  the  cause  of  his  madness  is  love.  A  company  of 
strolling  players  come  to  the  court  and  Hamlet  asks  them 
to  present  "The  Murder  of  Gonzago,"  a  play  similar  in 
incidents  to  the  murder  of  his  father. 


ACT    III 


During  the  play,  the  prince   closely   watches   the   king 
and  queen.     As  Hamlet  expected,  his  uncle  is  much  moved 

C 


Synopsis  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

and  hastily  .eaves  the  room,  followed  by  the  queen.  The 
latter  sends  for  her  son,  in  order  that  she  may  reason  with 
him  over  his  conduct.  Polonius  is  hidden  behind  a  cur- 
tain, and  Hamlet,  hearing  him  call  out  and  believing  it  to 
be  the  king,  slays  him.  Hamlet  reproaches  his  mother 
with  her  past  life  and  she  is  over-whelmed  with  shame  and 
remorse.  Their  interview  is  interrupted  by  the  dead  king's 
ghost,  who  is  invisible  and  inaudible  to  the  queen. 

ACT    IV 

The  king  and  queen  and  their  counselors  agree  that  Ham- 
let must  be  banished.  He  is  sent  to  England  under  guard 
of  two  schoolmates.  Sealed  orders  for  his  death  await  his 
arrival  in  that  country.  But  when  they  were  two  days  at 
sea  a  pirate  ship  gives  chase  to  their  vessel  and  Hamlet 
is  taken  prisoner.  The  pirates  deal  gently  with  him,  for 
they  hope  that  he  will  get  them  some  favor  from  the  court 
if  they  do  so.  Hamlet  returns  home  and  a  sad  sight  is  the 
first  thing  to  greet  his  eyes.  This  is  the  funeral  of  Ophe- 
lia. She  had  become  insane  from  fretting  over  her  fa- 
ther's sudden  death  at  her  lover's  hands,  over  Hamlet's 
madness,  and  over  her  brother's  prolonged  absence  from 
home.  She  had  wandered  about  the  court  for  days  sing- 
ing and  strewing  flowers,  and  at  last,  having  strayed  to  the 
banks  of  a  stream,  had  been  drowned. 

ACT    V 

Hamlet's  grief  is  intense,  and  he  leaps  into  the  open 
grave  and  there  contests  with  Laertes,  Ophelia's  brother, 
for  the  place  of  chief  mourner.  They  are  separated  by 
attendants,  and  later  at  the  king's  instigation  they  en- 
gage in  a  supposedly  friendly  fencing  match.  But 
Laertes'  rapier  is  sharp  and  poisoned.  To  make  certain 
of  the  prince's  death  the  king  prepares  a  poisoned  drink 
and  places  the  cup  where  Hamlet  will  be  likely  to  pick  it 
up  should  he  be  thirsty.  At  first  Hamlet  gains  some  ad- 
vantages, but  suddenly  he  receives  a  mortal  blow  from  his 


PRINCE    OF   DENMARK  Synopsis 

opponent's  weapon.  In  the  scuffle  which  follows,  the 
weapons  are  exchanged.  Hamlet  wounds  Laertes  with  the 
death-giving  rapier.  Meanwhile  the  queen,  desirous  of 
encouraging  her  son  and  knowing  nothing  of  the  poisoned 
drink,  picks  up  the  cup  near  her  to  drink  to  him,  and  im- 
mediately dies.  As  the  queen  passes  away,  Hamlet  realizes 
that  there  is  treachery  somewhere,  and  the  dying  Laertes 
confesses  his  share  in  it,  begging  forgiveness  of  the  prince, 
and  accuses  the  king  of  planning  it  all.  The  prince  turns 
on  his  uncle  and  stabs  him  to  death  with  the  poisoned 
weapon,  and  having  thus  avenged  his  father,  he  dies. 


S 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF 
HAMLET,  PRINCE  OF  DENMARK 

ACT  FIRST 

Scene  I 

Elsinore.    A  platform  before  the  castle, 

Francisco  at  his  post.     Enter  to  him  Bernardo. 

Ber.  Who  's  there? 

Fran.  'Nay,  answer  me:  stand,  and  unfold  your- 
self.      . 
Ber.  Long  Uve  the  king  I 

2.  "answer  me";  that  is,  answer  me,  as  I  have  the  right  to  chal- 
lenge you.  Bernardo  then  gives  in  answer  the  watch-word,  "Long 
live  the  king!" — "Compare,"  says  Coleridge,  "the  easy  language  of 
common  life,  in  which  this  drama  commences,  with  the  direful  music 
and  wild  wayward  rhythm  and  abrupt  lyrics  of  the  opening  of 
Macbeth.  The  tone  is  quite  familiar:  there  is  no  poetic  descrip- 
tion of  night,  no  elaborate  information  conveyed  by  one  speaker 
to  another  of  what  both  had  immediately  before  their  senses;  and 
yet  nothing  bordering  on  the  comic  on  the  one  hand,  nor  any 
striving  of  the  intellect  on  the  other.  It  is  precisely  the  language 
of  sensation  among  men  who  feared  no  charge  of  effeminacy  for 
feeling  what  they  had  no  want  of  resolution  to  bear.  Yet  the  ar- 
mour, the  dead  silence,  the  watchfulness  that  first  interrupts  it,  the 
welcome  relief  of  the  guard,  the  cold,  the  broken  expressions  of 
compelled  attention  to  bodily  feelings  still  under  control, — all  ex- 
cellently accord  with,  and  prepare  for,  the  after  gradual  rise  into 
tragedy;  but,  above  all,  into  a  tragedy,  the  interest  of  which  is  as 
eminently  ad  et  apud  intra,  as  that  of  Macbeth  is  directly  ad  extra." 
— H.  N.  H. 

7 


Act  I.  Sc.  i.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAJMLET 

Fran.  Bernardo? 
Ber.  He. 

Fran.  You  come  most  carefully  upon  your  hour. 

Ber.  'Tis  now  struck  twelve ;  get  thee  to  bed,  Fran- 
cisco. 

Fran.  For  this  relief  much  thanks :  'tis  bitter  cold. 
And  I  am  sick  at  heart.  /^J^JaM^ 

Ber.  Have  you  had  quiet  guard? 

Fran.  Not  a  mouse  stirrinm^lO 

Ber.  Well,  good  night.  ^Ua/lVI   /t/>»^ 

If  you  do  meet  Horatio  andl/Marcellus, 
The  ri^nsJDimyw^tch,  bid  them  make  haste. 

Fran.  I  think  I  hear  them.     Stand,  ho!     Who  is 
there  ? 

Enter  Horatio  and  Marcellus./pl^ 

Hor.  Friends  to  this  ground.    Ij^^'*^  ^i/^ 

Mar.  And  liegemen  to  the  D^ie.  (J 

Fran.  Give  you  good  night. 
Mar.  O,  farewell,  honest  soldier: 

Who  hath  relieved  you? 
Fran.  Bernardo  hath  my  place. 

Give  you  good  night.  [Eooit. 

Mar.  Holla!  Bernardo! 

Ber.  Say, 

What,  is  Horatio  there? 
Hor.  A  piece  of  him.        19 

Ber.  Welcome,  Horatio ;  welcome,  good  Marcellus. 

18.  "give  you  good  night";  this  salutation  is  an  abbreviated  form 
of,  "May  God  give  you  a  good  night";  which  has  been  still  further 
abbreviated  in  the  phrase,  "Good  night." — H.  N.  H. 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  I.  Sc.  i. 

Mar.  What,   has   this   thing   appear'd   again  to- 
night? 
Ber.  I  have  seen  nothing. 
Mar.  Horatio  says  'tis  but  our  fantasY, 

And  will  not  let  belief  tak^hold  of  him 

Touching  this  dreadedgsj^ht,  twice  seen  of  us:    Q   h^ 

Therefore  I  have  entreated  him^along  fi>^<4r  LD- 

With  us  to  watch  the  minutes  of  this  night, 

That  if  again  this  ^pariijoii  come, 

He  may  approve  our  eyes  and  speak  to  it. 
Hor.  Tush,  tush,  'twill  not  appear. 
Ber.  Sit  down  a  while ; 

And  let  us  once  again  assail  your  ears. 

That  are  so  fortified  against  our  story. 

What  we  have  two  nights  seen. 
Hor.  Well,  sit  we  down. 

And  let  us  hear  Bernardo  speak  of  this.  ^a^^4c/ju<4X^ 

21.  "has  this  thing  appeared,  etc.;  the  folio  assigns  this  speech  to 
Marcellus.  The  quartos  are  probably  right,  as  Horatio  comes  on 
purpose  to  try  his  own  eyes  on  the  Ghost. — We  quote  from  Cole- 
ridge again:  "Bernardo's  inquiry  after  Horatio,  and  the  repetition 
of  his  name  in  his  own  presence  indicate  a  respect  or  an  eagerness 
that  implies  him  as  one  of  the  persons  who  are  in  the  foreground; 
and  the  scepticism  attributed  to  him  prepares  us  for  Hamlet's  after 
eulogy  on  him  as  one  whose  blood  and  judgment  were  happily  com- 
mingled. Now,  observe  the  admirable  indefiniteness  of  the  first 
opening  out  of  the  occasion  of  all  this  anxiety.  The  preparative 
information  of  the  audience  is  just  as  much  as  was  precisely  necesr 
sary,  and  no  more; — it  begins  with  the  uncertainty  appertaining  to 
a  question:  'What!  has  this  thing  appear'd  again  to-night?'  Even 
the  word  again  has  its  credibiUzing  effect.  Then  Horatio,  the  reprer 
sentative  of  the  ignorance  of  the  audience,  not  himself,  but  by  Mar- 
cellus to  Bernardo,  anticipates  the  common  solution. — '  'Tis  but  our 
fantasy';  upon  which  Marcellus  rises  into, — 'This  dreaded  sight 
twice  seen  of  us';  which  immediately  afterwards  becomes  'this  _ 
apparition,'  and  that,  too,  an  intelligent  spirit  that  is  to  be  spokeq 
fp!"— H.'  N.  H, 


Act  I.  Sc.  L  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

Ber.  Last  night  of  alL, 

Wlien  yond  same  star  that 's  westward  from  the 

Had  made  his  course  to  illume  that  part  of 

heaven 
Where  now  it  bui-ns,-  ^larcellus  and  myself, 
The  bell  then  bfialiog  one, — 

Enter  Ghost. 

Mar.  Peace,  break- thee  oiF;  look,  where  it  comes 
again !  40 

Ber.  In  the  same  figure,  Hke  the  king  that 's  dead. 

Mar.  Thou  art  a  scholar;  sp^kyj^it,  HOTa^p^ 

Ber.  Looks  it  not  like  the  ki^Vm^k  itTHoratio. 

Hor.  Most  like :  it  harrows  me  with  fear  and  won- 
der. 

40.  "Peace,  break  thee  of";  "this  passage  seems  to  contradict  the 
critical  law,  that  what  is  told  makes  a  faint  impression  compared 
with  what  is  beholden;  for  it  does  indeed  convey  to  the  mind  more 
than  the  eye  can  see;  whilst  the  interruption  of  the  narrative  at  the 
very  moment  when  we  are  most  intensely  listening  for  the  sequel, 
and  have  our  thoughts  diverted  from  the  dreaded  sight  in  expecta- 
tion of  the  desired,  yet  almost  dreaded,  tale, — this  gives  all  the 
suddenness  and  surprise  of  the  original  appearance:  'Peace!  break 
thee  off:  look,  where  it  comes  again!'  Note  the  judgment  displayed 
in  having  the  two  persons  present,  who,  as  having  seen  the  Ghost 
before,  are  naturally  eager  in  confirming  their  former  opinions; 
whilst  the  sceptic  is  silent,  and,  after  having  been  twice  addressed  by 
his  friends,  answers  with  two  hasty  syllables,^ — 'Most  like,'^ — and  a 
confession  of  horror:  'It  harrows  me  with  fear  and  wonder'"  (Cole- 
ridge).—H.  N.  H. 

42.  "speak  to  it";  it  was  believed  that  a  supernatural  being  could 
only  be  spoken  to  with  eflfect  by  persons  of  learning;  exorcisms 
being  usually  practiced  by  the  clergy  in  Latin.  So  in  The  Night 
Walker  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher: 

"Let's  call  the  butler  up,  for  he  speaks  Latin. 
And  that  will  daunt  the  devil."— H.  N.  H. 
'.1 

44.  "It  harrows  me';  to  harroio  is  to  distress,  to  vex,  to  disturb. 

10 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  I.  Sc.  i. 

Ber.  It  would  be  spoke  to. 

Mar.  Question  it,  Horatio. 

Hor.  What  art  thou,  that  usurp 'st  this  time  of 
night. 
Together  with  that  fair  and  warhke  form  * 

In  which  the  majesty  of  buried  Denmark^    yCc^^^i^yCb' 
Did  sometimes  march?  by  heaven  I  charge  thee,       / 
speak!  -^^zrzrw  ^^fcAAA/^ 

Mar.  It  is  offended.  ^  / 

Ber.  See,  it  stalks  away !  ^^ 

Hor.  Stay!  speak,  speak!     I  charge  thee,  speak! 

lE.vit  Ghost. 

Mar.  'Tis  gone,  and  will  not  answer. 

Ber.  How  now,  Horatio!  you  tremble  and  look 
pale: 
Is  not  this  something  more  than  fantasy? 
What  think  you  on  't  ? 

Hor.  Before  my  God,  I  might  not  this  believe 
Without  the  sensible  and  true  avouclL 
Of  mine  own  eyes. 

Mar.  Is  it  not  like  the  king? 

Hor.  As  thou  art  to  thyself: 

Such  was  the  very  armor  he  had  on  60 

When  he  the  ambitious  Norway  combated; 
So  frown'd  he  once,  when,  in  an  an^ry  parle. 
He  smote  the  sledded  Polacks  on  the  ice. 
'Tis  strange. 

To  harry  and  to  harass  have  the  same  origin.  Milton  has  the  word 
in  Comus :  "Amaz'd  I  stood,  harroiv'd  with  grief  and  fear." — 
"Question  it,"  in  the  next  line,  is  the  reading  of  the  folio;  other  old 
copies  have  "Speak  to  it." — H.  N.  H. 

63.  "He  smote  the  sledded  Polacks  on  the  ice";  Q.  1,  Q.  2,  F.  1, 
"pollax,"  variously  interpreted  as  "Polacks,"  "poleaxe"  &c.;  there  is 


11 


%/^ 


Act  I.  Sc.  i.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

Mar.  Thus  twice  before,  and  ^imp  at  this  dead 
hour, 
With  martial  stalk  hath  he  gone  by  our  watch. 
Hor.  In  what  particular  thought  to  work  I  know 
not; 
But,  in  the  gross  and  scope  of  my  opinion. 
This  bodega  some  strange  eruptipn  to  our  state. 
Mar.  GoodvnSw,  sit  down,  and  tell  me,   he  that 
knows,  70 

Why  this  same  strict  and  most  observant  watch 
So  nightly  toils  the  subject  of  the  land, 
-JK    -rtAnd  why  such  dailyigCast  of  brazen  cannon, 
J^   \y And  foreign  mar^or  implements  of  war; 
r     |flr      Why  such  impress  of  shipwrights,  whose  sore 

\  ^  v^/SDoes  not  divide  the  Sunday  from  the  week ; 
1^^  What  might  be  toward,  that  this  sweaty  haste 
\  VK^      Doth  make  the  night  joint-laborer  with  the  day : 
r  Who  is  't  that  can  inform  me? 

Hor.  That  can  I ; 

At  least  the  whisper  goes  so.     Our  last  king,   80 
Whose  image  even  but  now*appear'd  to  u^, 
Was,  as  you  know,  by  For2nfe^^j5l*^8!orway, 
y  Thereto  £rick]d^on  by  a  most  emulate  pride. 
Dared  to  the-cMnbat ;  in  which  our  valiant  Ham- 

For  so  this  side  of  our  known  world  esteem'd 
him — 

very  little  to  be  said  against  the  former  interpretation,  unless  it 
be  that  "the  ambitious  Norway"  in  the  previous  sentence  would 
lead  one  to  expect  "the  sledded  Polack,"  a  commendable  reading 
originally  proposed  by  Pope. — I.  G. 


^^Wy]fAX/r:> 


.^  ^y,rjL^^l4yJ^  /zLAaA^^J^ 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  I.  Sc.  i. 


Did  slay  this  Fortinbras;  who  by  a  seai'd  com- 
pact,   .  tC-JuyyjC^ 

Well  ratified  by  law  and  heraldry, 

Did  forfeit,  withhislife,  all  those  his  lands 

Which  he  stood  ceized  oiTto  the  conqueror : 

Against  the  which,  a  moiety  competent  ^ 

^Vasgiiged  by  our  king;  Mhich  had  returned 

io  the  inheritance  of  Fortinbras,  ^jc-^f-iiu^ 

Had  he  been  vanquisher;  as,  by  the  same  cov^^^<<t 

I     And  carriage  of  the  article  design'd,  ^      ^K^ 

,    His  fell  to  Hamlet.     Now,  sir,  young  Fortin-       J 

Of  unimproved  metal  hot  and  full. 
Hath  in  the  skirts  of  Norway  here  and  there 
Shark' d  up  a  list  of  lawless  resolutes. 
For  food  and  diet,  to  some  enterprise 
That  hath  a  stomach  in  't :  which  is  no  other —  100 
As  it  doth  well  appear  unto  our  state — 
But  to  recover  of  us,  hw  strong  hand 
And  terms  coiypiSsatory,  those  foresaid  lands 
So  by  his  father  lost :  and  this,  I  take  it. 
Is  the  main  motive  of  our  preparations. 
The  source  of  this  our  watch  and  the  chief  head 
Of  this  post-haste  and  roma^Fmihe  land. 
Ber.  I  think  it  be  no  other  but  e'en  so :  ir 

Well  may  it  sojt,  that  this  portentous  figure 
Comes  armed  through  our  watch,  so  like  the 
king  110 

That  was  and  is  the  question  of  these  wars. 


108-125.  These  lines  occui*  in  the  Qq.,  but  are  omitted  in  Ff. — 


iv/cr— a^i»,     xiicac    jJiica     uv.v.iii      ill     iiic     v^y-j 

2^  ^  X<uJ^' ^f<X\yyrKj   dt^isoc^ 


^    ^^ 


Act  I.  Sc.  i.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 


r 


Hor.  A  mote  it  is  to  trouble  the  mind's  eye. 
In  the  most  high  and  palmy  state  of  Rome, 
A  little  ere  the  mightiest  Julius  fell, 
The  graves  stood  tenantless,  and  the  sheeted 

dead  -    '     "- 

Did  squeak  and  gibber  in  the  Roman  streets : 


^^. 


As  stars  with  trains  of  fire  and  dews  of  blo6d,   ^'^^ 
Disasters  in  the  sun;  and  the  moist  star,77V<r^      '*»^» 
,  Upon  whose  influence  Neptune's  empire  stands,  >6t^ 
Was  sick  almost  to  doomsday  with  edk)se:)i|J^^      t^ 
And  even  the  hke  precurse  of  fierc^^^v^its, 
As  liarbingers  preceding  gtill  the  fates  fir»«'«^^*'*^ 
And  prologue  to  the  omen  coming  on, 
Have  heaven  and  earth  together  demonstrated 
Unto  our  climatures  and  countrymen. 

Re-enter  Ghost. 

But  soft,  behold !  lo,  where  it  comes  again ! 

I  '11  cross  it,  though  it  blast  me.     Stay,  illusion ! 

If  thou  hast  any  sound,  or  use  of  voice, 

Speak  to  me: 

If  there  be  any  good  thing  to  be  done,  130 

|»  That  may  to  thee  do  ease  and  grace  to  me. 

Speak  to  me: 

If  thou  art  privy  to  thy  country's  fate, 
/J  Which,  happily,  foreknowing  may  avoid, 
r^O,  speak! 

Or  if  thou  hast  upho_arded.in  thy  life 

113.  "palmy  state";  that  is,  victorious;  the  Palm  being  the  emblem 
of  victory.— H.  N.  H. 

118.  " Dixastera" ;  ominous  signs,  probably  an  eclipse. — C.  H.  H. 

14 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  I.  Sc.  i. 

t.   Extorted  treasure  in  the  womb  of  earth, 

For  which,  thy  say,  you  spirits  oft  walk  in  death, 
^peak  of  it:  stay,  and  speak!  [The  cock  crows.'\ 
Stop  it,  Marcellus. 
t/ar.  Shall  I  strike  at  it  with  my  partisa^?       140 
Hor.  Do,  if  it  will  not  stand.  ^\)t<tWCi^ 


Ber.  Oj  'Tishere! 

Hor.  >0t^^    Aaajl^  'Tishere! 

Mar.  'Tisgone!        ^      ^^'**<-<n^    [Exit  Ghost. 
We  do  it  wrong,  being  so  majestical, 
To  offer  it  the  show  of  violence; 
For  it  is,  as  the  air,  invulnerable. 
And  our  vain  blows  malicious  mockery. 

Ber.  It  was  about  to  speak,  when  the  cock  crew. 

Hor.  And  then  it  started  like  a  guilty  thing 
Upon  a  fearful  summons.     I  have  heard. 
The  cock,  that  is  the  trumpet  to  the  morn,  150 
Doth  with  his  lofty  and  shrill-sounding  throat 
Awake  the  god  of  day,  and  at  his  warning, 
Whether  in  sea  or  fire,  in  earth  or  air. 
The  extravagant  and  erring  spirit  hies 
To  his  confine:  and  of  the  truth  herein    ^y*/^ 
This  present  object  made  probation.  "V""*^'^     Vj 

Mar,  It  faded  on  the  crowing  of  the  cock. 

Some  say  that  erver  'gainst  that  season  comes 

Wherein  our  Saviour^s  birth  is  celebrated. 

The  bird  of  dawning  singeth  all  night  long:  160 

157.  "crowing  of  the  cock";  this  is  a  very  ancient  superstition. 
Philostratiis,  giving  an  account  of  the  apparition  of  Achilles'  shade 
to  Apollonius  of  Tyanna,  says,  "it  vanished  with  a  little  gleam  as 
soon  as  the  cock  crowed."  There  is  a  Hymn  of  Prudenthis,  and  an- 
other of  St.  Ambrose,  in  which  it  is  mentioned;  and  there  are  some 
lines  in  the  latter  very  much  resembling  Horatio's  speech. — H.  N.  H. 

15 


Act  I.  Sc.  i.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

And  then,  they  say,  no  spirit  dare  stir  abroad^ 
The   nights   are   wholesome,    then   no   planet^ 

strike. 
No  fairy  takes  nor  witch  hath  power  to  charm;fi 


So  hallow'd  anc^  so  ffraobu^^  the  time. 


-><P 


Hor.  So  have  I  heard  and  do  in  part  beHeve  it. 
But  look,  the  morn,  in  russet  mantle  clad. 
Walks  o'er  the  dew  of  yon  high  eastward  hill: 
Break  we  our  watch  up ;  and  by  my  advice. 
Let  us  impart  what  we  have  seen  to-night 
Unto  young  Hamlet ;  for,  upon  my  life,     170 
This  spirit,  dumb  to  us^  will  speak  to  hioj : 
Do  you  consent  we  shall  acquaint  him  with  it. 
As  needful  in  our  loves,  fitting  our  duty? 
Mar.  Let 's  do  't,  I  pray ;  and  I  this  mornmg  know 
/^  Where  we  shall  find  him  most  conveniently. 
0 -jl^l^MZ-^^^-i^^     lHjlma^^   i^t^^^-y^  \Exeunt. 

J     167.  "eastward,"  so   Qq.;    Ff.,  "eastern^;  the   latter   reading  was 
perhaps  in  Milton's  mind,  when  he  wrote: — 

"Now  morn  her  rosy  steps  in  th'  eastern  clime 
Advancing,  sowed  the  earth  with  orient  pearls." 

Par.  Lost,  v.  1. — I.  G. 

170.  "young  Hamlet";  "note  the  inobtrusive  and  yet  fully  ade- 
quate mode  of  introducing  the  main  character,  "young  Hamlet," 
upon  whom  is  transferred  all  the  interest  excited  for  the  acts  and 
concerns  of  the  king  his  father"   (Coleridge). — H.  N.  H. 


16 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  I.  Sc.  ii. 


Scene  II 

'A  room  of  state  in  the  castle. 

Flourish.     Enter  the  King,  Queen,  Hamlet,. 

Polonius,  Laertes,  Voltimand,  Cornelius, 

Lords,  and  Attendants. 

King.  Though  yet  of  Hamlet  our  dear  brother*Si 
death 
The  memory  be  green,  and  that  it  us  befitted 
To  bear  our  hearts  in  grief  and  our  whole  king- 
dom 
To  be  contracted  in  one  brow  of  woe, 
Yet  so  far  hath  discretion  fought  with  nature 
That  we  with  wisest  sorrow  think  on  him. 
Together  with  remembrance  of  ourselves. 
Therefore  our  sometime  sister,  now  our  queen,, 
The  imperial  jointress  to  this  warlike  state. 
Have  we,  as  'twere  with  a  defeated  joy, —       10' 
With  an  auspicious  and  a  dropping  eyg. 
With  mirth  in  funeral  and  with  dirge  in  mar- 
riage, 
In  equal  scale  weighing  delight  and  dole, — 
Taken  to  wife :  nor  have  we  herein  barr'd 
Your  better  wisdoms,  which  have  freely  gone 
With  this  affair  along.     For  all,  our  thanks. 
Now  follows,  that  you  know,  young  Fortinbras, 

9.  "to";  the  reading  of  Qq.;  Ff.,  "of."— I.  G. 

11.  "dropping  eye";  the  same  thought  occurs  in  The  Winter's  Tale: 
"She   had    one    eye    decUn'd    for   the   loss    of   her   husband,   another 
elevated  that  the  oracle  was   fulfill'd."     There  is   an   old  proverbial 
phrase,  "To  laugh  with  one  eye,  and  cry  with  the  other." — H.  N.  H. 
XX— 2  17 


t 


Act  I.  Sc.  ii.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

Holding  a  weak  supposal  of  our  worth, 
Or  thinking  by  our  late  dear  brother's  death 
Our  state  to  be  disjoint  and  out  of  frame,     20 
Colleagued  with  this  dream  of  his  advantage. 
He  hath  not  fail'd  to  pester  us  with  message, 
Injporiing  the  surrender  of  those  lands 
Lost  by  his  father,  with  all  bonds  of  law. 
To  our  most  valiant  brother.     So  much  for  him. 
Now  for  ourself,  and  for  this  time  of  meeting: 
Thus  much  the  business  is :  we  have  here  writ 
To  Norway,  uncle  of  young  Fortinbras, — 
Who,  impotent  and  bed-rid,  scarcely  hears 
Of  this  his  nephew's  purpose, — to  suppress     30 
/-His  further  gaij  herein;  in  that  the  levies, 
%^/^(^^^  The  lists  and  full  proportions,  are  all  made 
f  Out  of  his  subject:  and  we  here  dispatch 

You,  good  Cornelius,  and  you,  Voltimand, 
For  bearers  of  this  greeting  to  old  Norway, 
Giving  to  you  no  further  personal  power 
To  business  with  the  king  more  than  the  scope 
Of  these  delated  articles  allow. 
Farewell,  and  let  your  haste  commend  your 
)V  duty. 

Cor,\    In  that  and  all  things  will  we  show  our 
Vol.  J  duty.  40 

King.  We  doubt  it  nothing :  heartily  farewell. 

[Exeunt  Voltimand  and  Cornelius. 
And  now,  Laertes,  what 's  the  news  with  you  ? 
You  told  us  of  some  suit ;  what  is  't,  Laertes  ? 
You  cannot  speak  of  reason  to  the  Dane, 
And  lose  your  voice:  what  wouldst  thou  beg, 
Laertes, 

18 


PRINCE  OF  DEX.MARK  Act  I.  Sc.  ii. 

That  shall  not  be  my  offer,  not  thy  asking  ? 
The  head  is  not  more  native  to  the  heart, 
The  hand  more  instrumental  to  the  mouth, 
Than  is  the  throne  of  Denmark  to  thy  father. 
What  wouldst  thou  have,  Laertes?' 
Laer.  My  dread  lord,     50 

Your  leave  and  favor  to  return  to  France, 
From  whence  though  willingly  I  came  to  Den- 
mark, 
To  show  my  duty  in  your  coronation, 
Yet  now,  I  must  confess,  that  duty  done. 
My  thoughts  and  wishes  bend  again  toward 

France 
And  ISow   them   to   your    gracious   leave   and 
pardon. 
King.  Have  you  your  father's  leave?     What  says 

Polonius? 
Pol.  He  hath,  my  lord,  wrung  from  me  my  slow 
leave 
By  laborsome  petition,  and  at  last 
Upon  his  will  I  seal'd  my  liMXd  consent:       60 
I  do  beseech  you,  give  him  leave  to  go. 
King.  Take  thy  fair  hour,  Laertes;  time  be  thine, 
And  thy  best  graces  spend  it  at  thy  will ! 
But  now,  my  cousin  Hamlet,  and  my  son, — 
Ham.  [Aside]    A  little  more  than  kin,  and  less 
than  kind.  -^^(rXAjL^^ 

58-60.  Omitted  In  Ff.— I.  G.       "^tO    "CX-O'v^^ 

Qi-2.  "Take  thy  fair  hour";  the  king's  speech  may  be  thu|  ex- 
plained: "Take  an  auspicious  hour,  Laertes;  be  your  time  your 
own,  and  thy  best  virtues  guide  thee  in  spending  of  it  at  thy  will." 
Johnson  thought  that  we  should  read,  "And  my  best  graces."  The 
editors  had  rendered  this  passage  obscure  by  placing  a  colon  at 
graces. — H.  N.  H. 

19 


Act  I.  Sc.  ii.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

King.  How  is  it  that  the  clouds  still  hang  on  j'-ou? 
Ham.  Not  so,  my  lord;  I  am  too  much  i'  the  sun. 
Queen.  Good  Hamlet,  cast  thy  nighted  color  off, 
And  let  thjne  eye  look  like  a  friend  on  Den- 

mark. 'ktc''^^*^''^^^''*^^^  ^ 

Do  not  for  ever  with  thy  vailed  lids  70 

Seek  for  thy  noble  father  in  the  dust: 
Thou  know'st  'tis  common;  all  that  lives  must 

die, 
Passing  through  nature  to  eternity. 

Ham.  Aye,  madam,  it  is  common. 

Queen.  7  If  it  be. 

Why  seems  it  so  particular  with  thee  ? 

Ham.  Seems,  madam !  nay,  it  is ;  I  know  not  'seems.' 
'Tis  not  alone  my  inky  cloak,  good  mother, 
Nor  customarj'^  suits  of  solemn   black, 
Nor  windy  suspiration  of  forced  breath. 
No,  nor  the  fruitful  river  in  the  eye,  80 

Nor  the  dejected  havior  of  the  visage, 
Together  with  all  forms,  moods,  shapes  of  grief. 
That  can  denote  me  truly :  these  indeed  seem,/ 
For  they  are  actions  that  a  man  might  play : 
But  I  have  that  within  which  passeth  show; 
These  but  the  trappings  and  the  suits  of  woe. 

74.  "Aye,  madam,  it  is  common";  "Here  observe  Hamlet's  delicacy 
to  his  mother,  and  how  the  suppression  prepares  him  for  the  over- 
flow in  the  next  speech,  in  which  his  character  is  more  developed  by 
bringing,  forward  his  aversion  to  externals,  and  which  betrays  his 
habit  of  brooding  over  the  world  within  him,  coupled  with  a  prod- 
igality of  beautiful  words,  which  are  the  half-embodyings  of 
thought,  and  are  more  than  thought,  and  have  an  outness,  a  reality 
svi  generis,  and  yet  retain  their  correspondence  and  shadowy  af- 
finity to  the  images  and  movements  within.  Note,  also,  Hamlet's 
silence  to  the  long  speech  of  the  King,  which  follows,  and  his  re- 
spectful, but  general,  answer  to  his  mother"   (Coleridge). — H.  N.  H. 

20 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  I.  Sc.  ii. 

King.  'Tis  sweet  and  commendable  in  your  nature, 

Hamlet, 
To  give  these  mourning  duties  to  your  father : 
But,  you  must  know,  your  father  lost  a  father, 
That    father   lost,   lost   his,    and   the   survivor 

bound  90 

In  filial  ojbligation  for  some  term 
To  do  oTisequious  sorrow :  but  to  persevere 
In  obstinate  condolement  is  a  course 
Of  impious  stubbornness;  'tis  unmanly  grief: 
It  shows  a  will  most  incorrect  to  heaven, 
A  heart  unfortified,  a  mind  impatient. 
An  understanding  simple  and  unschool'd: 
For,  what  we  know  mu|tbe,  and  is  as  common 
As^any  the  most  v^garming  to  sense, 
Why  should  we  in  our  peevish  opposition 
Take  it  to  heart?     Fie!  'tis  a  fault  to  heaven 
A  fault  against  the  dead,  a  fault  to  nature. 
To  reason  most  absurd,  w^hose  common  theme 
Is  death  of  fathers,  and  who  still  hath  cried. 
From  the  first  corse  till  he  that  died  to-day, 
'This  must  be  so.'     We  pray  you,  throw  to  earth 
This  unprevailing  woe,  and  think  of  us. 
As  of  a  father :  for  let  the  world  take  note, 
You  are  the  most  immediate  to  our  throne. 
And  with  no  less  nobility  of  love  Hf^ 

Than  that  which  dearest  father  bears  ]|^  son 
Do  I  impart  toward  you.     For  your  intent 
In  going  back  tgsghool  in  Wittenberg, 
It  is  most  retrograoek)  "our  desu-e : 
And  we  beseech  you,  bendyouro^remain 
Here  in  tlic  cheer  and  comfort  of  our  eye, 

21 


Act  I.  Sc.  ii.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

Our  chief  est  courtier,  cousin  and  our  son. 
Queen.  Let  not  thy  mother  lose  her  prayers,  Ham- 
let: 
pray  thee,  stay  with  us ;  go  not  to  Wittenberat 
am.  I  shall  in  all  my  best  obey  you,  madam.  13Sr\X«2 
King.  Why,  'tis  a  loving  and  a  fair  reply: 

Be  as  ourself  in  Denmark.     ]Madam,  come; 
This  gentle  and  unforced  accord  of  Hamlet 
Sits  smiling  to  my  heart:  in  grace  whereof, 
No  jocund  health  tliat  Denmark  drinks  to-day. 
But  the  great  cannon  to  the  clouds  shall  tell, 
And  the  king's  rouse  the  heaven  shall  bruit 

again,  ^(M^ly  A'^^'^'k, 

Re-speaking  earthly  thunder.     Come  away.      '^]!HJ/' 
[Flourish.     Exeunt  all  but  Hamlet. 
Ham.  O,  that  this  too  too  solid  flesh  would  melt. 
Thaw  and  resolve  itself  into  a  dew!  130 

Or  thattlie  Everlasting  had  not  fix'd 
His  canon  'gainst  self -slaughter !    O  God !  God ! 
\    How  weary,  stale,  flat  and  unprofitable 
Seem  to  me  all  the  uses  of  this  world! 
Fie  on't !  ah  fie !  'tis  an  unweeded  garden. 
That  grows  to  seed;  things  rank  and  gross  in 

nature 
Possess  it  merely.     That  it  should  come  to  this ! 
But  two  months  d^a^l  nay,  not  so  much,  not 

tw): 
So  excellent  a  km^^that  ja:as,  to  this, 
^A^jii^lio   Hyperion  to  a  salj^YsoToving  to  my  mother,  140 
^  That  he  might  not  beteem  the  winds  of  heaven 

Visit  her  face  too  roughly.     Heaven  and  earth  I 

V2S.  "Denmark":  I  r.  tlic  king.— C.  H.  H. 
22 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  I.  Sc.  ii. 

Must  I  remember  ?  why,  she  would  hang  on  him, 
/As  if  increase  of  appetite  had  grown 
I  By  what  it  fed  on:  and  yet,  within  a  month — 
Let  me  not  think  on't — Frailty,  thy  name  is 

womari ! — 
A  little  month,  or  ere  those  shoes  were  old 
With  which  she  f ollow'd  my  poor  father's  body, 
Like  Niobe,  all  tears: — why  she,  even  she, — 
Oy  God!    a    beast    that    wants    discourse    of 
/^//'^LB^ason  1^0 

/V^Would  have  mourn'd  longer, — married  with  my 

YJ*      uncle, 

f"    My  father's  brother,  but  no  more  like  my  father 
Than  I  to  Hercules:  within  a  month; 
Ere  yet  the  salt  of  most  unrighteous  tears 
Had  left  the  flushing  in  her  galled  eyes, 
She  married.     O,  most  wicked  speed,  to  post 
With  such  dexterity  to  incestuous  sheets ! 
It  is  not,  nor  it  cannot  come  to  good: 
But  break,   my  heart,   for   I   must  hold  my 
tongue ! 

Enter  Horatio,  Marcellus,  and  Bernado. 

159.  "/  must  hold  my  tongue";  "This  tcedium  vitce  is  a  common 
oppression  on  minds  cast  in  the  Hamlet  mould,  and  is  caused  by 
disproportionate  mental  exertion,  which  necessitates  exhaustion  of 
bodily  feeling.  Where  there  is  a  just  coincidence  of  external  and 
internal  action,  pleasure  is  always  the  result;  but  where  the  former 
is  deficient,  and  the  mind's  appetency  of  the  ideal  is  unchecked,^ 
realities  will  seem  cold  and  unmoving.  In  such  cases,  passion  com- 
bines itself  with  the  •indefinite  alone.  In  this  mood  of  his  mind,  the 
relation  of  the  appearance  of  his  father's  spirit  in  arms  is  made  all  at 
once  to  Hamlet: — it  is — Horatio's  speech,  in  particular — a  perfect 
model  of  the  true  style  of  dramatic  narrative;  the  purest  poetry,  and 
yet  in  the  most  natural  language,  equally  remote  from  the  ink-horn 
and  the  plough"  (Coleridge).— H.  N.  H. 

23 


Act  I.  Sc.  ii.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAISILET 

Hor.  Hail  to  your  lordship! 

Ham .  I  am  glad  to  see  you  well :  160 

Horatio, — or  I  do  forget  myself.  \ 

Hor.  The  same,  my  lord,  and  your  poor  servant 

ever. 
Ham.  Sir,  my  good  friend;  I  '11  change  that  name 
with  you: 

And  what  make  you  from  Wittenberg,  Hor- 
atio? 

Marcellus  ? 
Mar.  My  good  lord? 

Ham.  I   am  very   glad  to  see  you.     [To  Ber.'] 
Good  even,  sir. 

But  what,  in  faith,  make  you  from  Wittenberg? 
Hor.  A  truant  disposition,  good  my  lord. 
Ham.  I  would  not  hear  your  enemy  say  so,     170 

Nor  shall  you  do  my  ear  that  violence, 

To  make  it  truster  of  your  own  report 

Against  yourself:  I  know  you  are  no  truant. 

But  what  is  your  affair  in  Elsinore? 

We  '11  teach  you  to  drink  deep  ere  you  depart. 
Hor.  My  lord,  I  came  to  see  your  father's  funeral. 
Ham.  I  pray  thee,  do  not  mock  me,  fellow-student ; 

I  think  it  wsifi  to  see  my  mother's  wedding. 
Hor.  Indeed,  my  lord,  it  follow'd  hard  u^on.A^Cit/ 

167.  The  words,  "Good  even,  sir,"  are  evidently  addressed  tor  Ber- 
nardo, whom  Hamlet  has  not  before  known;  but  as  he  now  meets 
him  in  company  with  old  acquaintances,  like  a  true  gentleman,  as 
he  is,  he  gives  him  a  salutation  of  kindness.  Some  editors  have 
changed  even  to  morning,  because  Marcellus '  has  said  before  of 
Hamlet,- — "I  this  morning  know  where  we  shall  find  him."  It  needs 
but  be  remembered  that  good  even  was  the  common  salutation  after 
noon. — "What  make  you?"  in  the  preceding  speech,  is  the  old  lan- 
guage for,  "what  do  you?" — H.  N.  H. 

24 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  l.  Sc.  ii. 

Ham,  Thrift,  thrift,  Horatio!  the  funeral  baked- 
meats  180 

Did  coldly  furnish  forth  the  marriage  tables. 
Would  I  had  met  my  dearest  foe  in  heaven 
Or  ever  I  had  seen  that  day,  Horatio! 
My  father! — methinks  I  see  my  father. 

Hor.  O  where,  my  lord? 

Ham.  In  my  mind's  eye,  Horatio. 

Hor.  I  saw  him  once ;  he  was  a  goodly  king. 

Ham.  He  was  a  man,  take  him  for  all  in  all, 
I  shall  not  look  upon  his  like  again. 

Hor.  My  lord,  I  think  I  saw  him  yesternight. 

Ham.  Saw?  who?  190 

Hor.  My  lord,  the  king  your  father. 

Ham.  J(jjil  \'*iAuiMy  '^^^  king  my  father ! 

Hor.  Sea^n  your  admiration  for  a  while  ,^— 

With  an  attent  ear,  till  I  may  deliver,  AJ^-^-^^-^ 
Upon  the  witness  of  these  gentlemen. 
This  marvel  to  you.  ^ 

Ham.  ^  For  God's  love,  let  me  hear. 

Hor.y^wo  nights  together  had  these  gentlemen, 
Marcellus  andBeniardo,  on  their  watch. 
In  the  dead  v^srana  middle  of  the  night,   ^2/tMZ^ 

187.  "He  was  a  man";  some  would  read  this  as  if  it  were  pointed 
thus:  "He  was  a  man:  take  him  for  all  in  all,"  &c.;  laying  marked 
stress  on  man,  as  if  it  were  meant  to  intimate  a  correction  of 
Horatio's  "goodly  king."  There  is,  we  suspect,  no  likelihood  that  the 
Poet  had  any  such  thought,  as  there  is  no  reason  why  he  should 
have  had,— H.  N.  H. 

190.  "Saw?  who?";  the  original  has  no  mark  after  "saw."  In 
colloquial  language,  it  was  common,  as  indeed  it  still  is,  thus  to  use 
the  nominative  where  strict  grammar  would  require  the  objective. 
Modern  editions  embellish  the  two  words  with  various  pointing;  as 
above:     "Saw?  who?"  or  thus:     "Saw!  who?"— H.  N.  H. 

25 


Act  I.  Sc.  ii.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

Been   thus   eneounter'd.     A   figure   like   yQ»r 

father,^  yfe/t^e^o^'^^^'^^^ 

Armed  at^  point  exactly,  cap-a-pe,  /  200 

Appears  before  them,  and  with  solemn  march 
Goes  slow  and  stately  by  them :  thrice  he  walk'd 
By  their  oppress'd  and  fear-surprised  eyes, 
Within   his   truncheon's   length;    whilst   they, 

distill'd  ^^M^aMa^-^^ 
Almost  to  jelly  with  thte  act  of  fear. 
Stand  dumb,  and  speak  not  to  him.     This  to  me 
In  dreadftil  secrecy  impart  tjhey  did; 
And   I   with  them  the  third  night  kept  the 

watch : 
Where,  as  they  had  deliver'd,  both  in  time. 
Form  of  the  thing,  each  word  made  true  and 
good,  210 

The  apparition  comes :  I  knew  your  father ; 
These  hands  are  not  more  hke. 
Ham.  But  where  was  this? 

Mar.  My    lord,    upon    the    platform    where    we 

watch' d. 
Ham.  Did  you  not  speak  to  it? 
Hor.  My  lord,  I  did. 

But  answer  made  it  none:  yet  once  methought 
^^         It  lifted  up  its  head  and  did  address 
^  UkyQJU^  Itself  to  motion,  like  as  it  would  speak : 

/J  cA/^217.  "like  as  it  would  speak";  "It  is  a  most  inimitable  circum- 
stance  in   Shakespeare  so  to  have  managed  this  popular  idea,  as  to 

l^\^^yyy^make  the  Ghost,  which  has  been  so  long  obstinately  silent,  and  of 
course  must  be  dismissed  by  the  morning,  begin  or  rather  prepare 
to  speak,  and  to  be  interrupted  at  the  very  critical  time  of  the 
crowing  of  a  cock.  Another  poet,  according  to  custom,  would  have 
suffered  his  ghost  tamely  to  vanish,  without  contriving  this  start, 
which  is  like  a  start  of  guilt:  to  say  nothing  of  the  aggravation  of 

26" 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  i.  Sc.  ii. 

But  even  then  the  morning  cock  crew  loud, 

And  at  the  sound  it  shrunk  in  haste  away 

And  vanish'd  from  our  sight. 
Ham.  'Tis  very  strange.  220 

Hor,  As  I  do  live,  my  honor'd  lord,  'tis  true, 

And  we  did  think  it  writ  down  in  our  duty 

To  let  you  know  of  it. 
Ham.  Indeed,  indeed,  sirs,  but  this  troj^bles  me. 

Hold  you  the  watch  to-night?      *^t^-^^x-^ic^   >>uUh>^ 

^^^  '  [  We  do,  my  lord. 

Ham.  Arm'd,  say  you? 

^^^'\  Ai-m'd,  my  lord. 

Ham.  From  top  to  toe? 

„     *  y       Mv  lord,  from  head  to  foot. 

Ham.  Then  saw  you  not  his  face  ?  '''^^^JI?^^ 
Hor.  O,  yes,  my  lord;  he  wore  his  beavef^p.     230 
Ham.  What,  look'd  he  frowningly?  U-y^^' ^1 
Hor.  A  countenance  more  in  sorrow  than  in  anger. 
Ham.  Pale,  or  red ? 
Hor.  Nay,  very  pale. 

Ham.  And  fix'd  his  eyes  upon  you? 

Hor.  Most  constantly. 

Ham.  I  would  I  had  been  there. 

Hor.  It  would  have  much  amazed  you. 
Ham.  Very  lik§,  very  like.     Stay'd  it  long? 
Hor.  While  one  with  moderate  haste  might  tell  a 
hundred. 

the  future  suspense  occasioned  by  this  preparation  to  speak,  and  to 
impart  some  mysterious  secret.  Less  would  have  been  expected  if 
nothing  had  been  promised"  (T.  Warton). — H.  N.  H. 

27 


Act  I.  Sc.  ii.  TRAGEDY  OF  HA^ILET 

Ber'  }    ^^"S^^''  longer. 

Hor.  Not  when  I  saw't. 

Ham.  His  beard  was  grizzled?  no?  240 

Hor.  It  was,  as  I  have  seen  it  in  his  Kfe, 
A  sable  silver'd. 

Ham.  I  will  watch  to-night; 

Perchance  'twill  walk  again. 

Hor.  I  warrant  it  will. 

Ham.  If  it  assume  my  noble  father's  person, 
I  '11  speak  to  it,  though  hell  itself  should  gape 
And  bid  me  hold  my  peace.     I  pray  you  all, 
If  you  hava  hitherto  conceal'd  this  sight, 
Let  it  be  t,^^^ILin  your  silence  still, 
And  whatsoever  else  shall  hap  to-night. 
Give  it  an  understanding,  but  no  tongue:     250 
I  will  requite  your  loves.     So  fare  you  well : 
Upon  the  platform,  'twixt  eleven  and  twelve, 
I  '11  visit  you, 

All.  Our  duty  to  j^our  honor. 

Ham.  Your  loves,  as  mine  to  you :  farewell. 

[Exeunt  all  hut  Hamlet. 
]My  father's  spirit  in  arms!  all  is  not  well; 
L4^^4U'<A'    I  doubt  some  foul  play:  would  the  night  were 
1}  come! 

Till  then  sit  still,  my  soul:  foul  deeds  will  rise, 

\  Though  all  the  earth  o'erwhelm  them,  to  men's 

eyes.  [Exit, 


28 


J^ 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act 


Scene  III 


I.  be.  111. 


A  room  in  Polonius's  house. 
Enter  Laertes  and  Ophelia. 

Laer.  My  necessaries  are  embark'd:  farewell: 
And,  sister,  as  the  winds  give  benefit 
And  convoy  is  assistant,  do  not  sleep. 
But  let  me  hear  from  you. 

Oph.  Do  you  doubt  that? 

Laer.  For  Hamlet,  and  the  trifling  of  his  favor, 
Hold  it  a  fashion,  and  a  toy  in  blood, 
A  violet  in  the  j^outh  of  primy  nature. 
Forward,  not  permanent,  sweet,  not  lasting, 
The  perfume  and  suppliance  of  a  minute ; 
No  more. 

Oph.  No  more  but  so? 

Laer.  Think  it  no  more :  10 

For  nature  crescent  does  not  grow  alone 
In  thews  and  bulk;  but,  as  this  temple  waxes. 
The  inward  service  of  the  mind  and  soul 
Grows  wide  withal.     Perhaps  he  loves  you  noAv ; 
And  now  no  soil  nor  cautel  doth  besmirch 
The  virtue  of  his  will :  but  you  must  fear. 
His  greatness  weigh'd,  his  will  is  not  his  own; 
For  he  himself  is  subject  to  his  birth: 

11.  "crescent";  growing. — C.  H.  H. 

12.  "this  temple";  so  Qq. ;  Ff.,  "his  temple." — I.  G. 
16.  "will,"  so  Qq.;   Ff.,  "fear."— I.  G. 

18.  Omitted  in  Qq.— I.  G. 

"he  himself  is  subject  to  his  birth";  this  line  is  found  only  in  the 
folio. — "This  scene,"  says  Coleridge,  "must  be  regarded  as  one  of 
Shakespeare's  lyric  movements  in  the  play,  and  the  skill  with  which 

29 


Act  I.  Sc.  iii.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

He  may  not,  as  unvalued  persons  do, 
Carve  for  himself,  for  on  his  choice  depends    20 
The  safety  and  health  of  this  whole  state. 
And  therefore  must  his  choice  be  circumscribed 
Unto  the  voice  and  yielding  of  that  body 
Whereof  he  is  the  head.     Then  if  he  says  he 

loves  you, 
It  fits  your  wisdom  so  far  to  believe  it 
As  he  in  his  particular  act  and  place 
May  give  his  saying  deed;  which  is  no'fiirtji^ 
Than  the  main  voice  of  Demmflf  goes  withal. 
Then  weigh  what  loss  your  honor  may  sustain, 
If  with  too  credent  ear  you  list  his  songs,     30 
Or  lose  your  heart,  or  your  chaste  treasure  open 
To  his  unmaster'd  importunity. 
Fear  it,  Ophelia,  fear  it,  my  dear  sister, 
And  keep  you  in  the  rear  of  your  affection. 
Out  of  the  shot  and  danger  of  desire. 
The  chariest  maid  is  prodigal  enough, 
If  she  unmask  her  beauty  to  the  moon: 
Virtue  itself  'scapes  not  calumnious  strokes : 
The  canker  galls  the  infants  of  the  spring 
Too  oft  before  their  buttons  be  disclosed,     40 
And  in  the  morn  and  liquid  dew  of  youth 
Contagious  blastments  are  most  imminent. 
Be  wary  then;  best  safety  lies  in  fear: 

jt  is  interwoven  with  the  dramatic  parts  is  peculiarly  an  excellence 
with  our  Poet.  Fow  experience  the  sensation  of  a  pause,  without  the 
sense  of  a  stop.  You  will  observe,  in  Ophelia's  short  and  general 
answer  to  the  long  speech  of  Laertes,  the  natural  carelessness  of 
innocence,  which  cannot  think  such  a  code  of  cautions  and  prudences 
necessary  to  its  own  preservation." — H.  N.  H. 

26.  "particular   act    and   place,"   so   Qq. ;    Ff.,   "peculiar   sect   and 
force." — I.  G. 

30 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  i.  Sc.  m. 

Youth  to  itself  rebels,  though  none  else  near. 

Oph.  I  shall  the  eif  ect  of  this  good  lesson  keep, 
As  watchman  to   my  heart.     But,   good  my 

brother, 
Do  not,  as  some  ungracious  pastors  do, 
Show  me  the  steep  and  thorny  way  to  heaven. 
Whilst,  like  a  puff'd  and  reckless  libertine. 
Himself  the  primrose  path  of  dalliance  treads  50 
And  recks  not  his  own  rede. 

Laer.  O,  fear  me  not. 

I  stay  too  long :  but  here  my  father  comes. 

Enter  Polonius, 

A  double  blessing  is  a  double  grace; 
Occasion  smiles  upon  a  second  leave. 
Pol.  Yet    here,    Laertes!     Aboard,    aboard,    for 

shame ! 
The  wind  sits  in  the  shoulder  of  your  sail, 
And  you  are  stay'd  for.     There;  my  blessing 

with  thee ! 
And  these  few  precepts  in  thy  memory 
Look  thou  character.     Give  thy  thoughts  no 

tongue. 
Nor  any  unproportion'd  thought  his  act.       60 
Be  thou  familiar,  but  by  no  means  vulgar. 

59.  Polonius'  precepts  have  been  traced  back  to  Euphues'  advice 
to  Philautus;  the  similarity  is  certainly  striking  (vide  Rushton's 
Shakespeare's  Euphuism) ;  others  see  in  the  passage  a  reference  to 
I.ord  Burleigh's  "ten  precepts,"  enjoined  upon  Robert  Cecil  when 
about  to  set  out  on  his  travels  (French's  Shakes  pear  eana,  Oenealogica, 
V.  Furness,  Vol.  II.  p.  239).— I.  G. 

61.  "Vulgar"  is  here  used  in  its  old  sense  of  common, — In  the 
second  line  below,  divers  modern  editions  have  "hooks"  instead  of 
hoops,  the  reading  of  all  the  old  copies.  It  is  not  easy  to  see  what 
is  gained  bj'  the  unauthorized  change. — H.  N.  H. 


Act  I.  Sc.  iii.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

/Those   friends   thou   hast,   and   their  adoption 

tried. 
Grapple  them  to  thy  soul  with  hoops  of  steel. 
But  do  not  dull  thy  palm  M^th  entertainment 
Of  each  new-hatch'd  unfledged  comrade.     Be- 
ware 
Of  entrance  to  a  quarrel;  but  being  in, 
Bear  't,  that  the  opposed  may  beware  of  thee. 
Give  every  man  thy  ear,  but  few  thy  voice : 
I  Take^each  man^s_censure,  but  reserve  thy  judg- 
ment. 
Costly  thy  habit  as  thy  purse  can  buy,         70 
But  not  express'd  in  fancy;  rich,  not  gaudy: 
For  the  apparel  oft  proclaims  the  man; 
And  they  in  France  of  the  best  rank  and  station 
Are  of  a  most  select  and  generous  chief  in  that. 
Neither  a  borrower  nor  a  lender  be : 
For  loan  oft  loses  both  itself  and  friend, 
And  borrowing  dulls  the  edge  of  husbandry. 
This  above  all:  to  thine  own  self  be  true. 
And  it  must  follow,  as  the  night  the  day. 
Thou  canst  not  then  be  false  to  any  man.     80 
Farewell :  my  blessing  season  this  in  thee ! 

65.  "comrade"  (accented  on  the  second  syllable),  so  F.  1;  Qq. 
(also  Q.  1),  "cowrage."—!.  G. 

74.  "Are  of  a  most  select  and  generous  chief  in  that";  so  F.  1; 
Q.  1,  "are  of  a  most  select  and  general  chief e  in  that" ;  Q.  2,  "Or  of  a 
must  select  and  generous  chief e  in  that" ;  the  line  is  obviously  incor- 
rect; the  simplest  emendation  of  the  many  proposed  is  the  omission 
of  the  words  "of  a"  and  "chief"  which  were  probably  due  to 
marginal  corrections  of  "in"  and  "best"  in  the  previous  line: — 

"Are  most  select  and  generous  in  that." 
(Collier   "choice"    for   "chief";    Staunton    "sheaf"    i.    e.    set,    clique, 
suggested  by  the  Euphuistic  phrase  "gentlemen  of  the  best  sheaf"). 
—I.  G. 

32 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  i.  Sc.  m. 

Laer.  Most  humbly  do  I  take  my  leave,  my  lord. 
Pol.  The  time  invites  you;  go,  your  servants  tend. 
Laer.  Farewell,  Ophelia,  and  remember  well 

What  I  have  said  to  you. 
Oph.  'Tis  in  my  memory  lock'd, 

And  you  yourself  shall  keep  the  key  of  it. 
Laer.  Farewell.  [Exit. 

Pol.  What  is  't,  Ophelia,  he  hath  said  to  you?  &jLY^$9^r,^tl^ 
Oph.  So  please  you,  something  touching  the  Lord  ^ 

Hamlet. 
Pol.  Marry,  well  bethought :  90 

'Tis  told  me,  he  hath  very  oft  of  late 

Given  private  time  to  you,  and  you  yourself 

Have  of  your  audience  been  most  free  and 
bounteous ; 

If  it  be  so — as  so  'tis  put  on  me, 

And  that  in  way  of  caution — I  must  tell  you, 

You  do  not  imder stand  yourself  so  clearly 

As  it  behoves  my  daughter  and  your  honor. 

What  is  between  you?  give  me  up  the  truth. 
Oph.  He  hath,  my  lord,  of  late  made  many  tenders 

Of  his  aiFection  to  me.  100 

Pol.  Affection!  pooh!  you  speak  like  a  green  girl. 

Unsifted  in  such  perilous  circumstance. 

Do  you  believe_his  tenders,  as  you  call  them  ^  ■ 
Oph.  I  do  not  know,  my  lord,  what  I  should  think. 
Pol.  Marry,  I  '11  teach  you :  think  yourself  a  baby, 

That  you  have  ta'en  these  tenders  for  true  pay. 

Which  are  not  sterling.     Tender  yourself  more 
dearly ; 

Or — not  to  crack  the  wind  of  the  poor  phrase, 

XX-3  S3 


Act  I.  Sc.  iii.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

Running  it  thus — you  '11  tender  me  a  fool. 

Oyh.  My    lord,    he    hath    importuned    me    with 
love  110 

In  honorable  fashion. 

Pol.  Aye,  fashion  you  may  call  it ;  go  to,  go  to. 

Ofh,.  And  hath  given  countenance  to  his  speech, 
my  lord, 

*  "    With  almosjLall  the  holy  vows  of  Jieave^ 

Pol.  Aye,    sprmges    to    catch    woodcod^T^  I    do 
know, 
When  the  blood  burns,  how  prodigal  the  soul 
Lends  the  tongue  vows:  these  blazes,  daughter, 
Giving  more  light  than  heat,  extinct  in  both, 
Even  in  their  promise,  as  it  is  a-making. 
You  must  not  take  for  fire.     From  this  time  120 
Be  something  scanter  of  your  maiden  presence; 
Set  your  entreatments  at  a  higher  rate 
Than  a  command  to  parley.     For  Lord  Ham- 
let, 
Believe  so  much  in  him,  that  he  is  young, 
And  with  a  larger  tether  may  he  walk 
Than  may  be  given  you:  in  few,  Ophelia, 
Do  not  believe  his  vows;  for  they  are  brokSTS* 
Not  of  that  dye  which  their  investments  show. 
But  mere  implorators  of  unholy  suits, 

109,  "Running,"  Collier's  conj.;  Qq.,  "Wrong";  F.  1,  "Roaming"; 
Pope,  "Wronging";  Warburton,  "Wronging" ;  Theobald,  "Ranging," 
&c.— I.  G. 

123.  "Than  a  command  to  parley";  "be  more  difficult  of  access,  and 
let  the  8%iits  to  you  for  that  purpose  be  of  higher  respect,  than  a 
command  to  parley." — H.  N.  H. 

1^5.  "larger  tether";  that  is,  with  a  longer  line;  a  horse,  fastened 
by  a  string  to  a  stake,  is  tethered. — H.  N.  H. 


54 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  I.  Sc-  iv. 

Breathing  like  sanctified  and  pious  bawds,  130 

The  better  to  beguile.     This  is  for  all : 

I  would  not,  in  plain  terms,   from  this  time 

forth, 
Have  you  so  slander  any  moment  leisure. 
As  to  give  words  or  talk  with  the  Lord  Ham- 
let. 
Look  to  't,  I  charge  you :  come  your  ways. 
Oph.  I  shall  obey,  my  lord.  [Exeunt, 


Scene  IV 

The  platform. 

Enter  Hamlet,  Horatio,  and  Marcellus. 

Ham.    The  air  bites  shrewdly;  it  is  very  cold. 
Hot.  It  is  a  nipping  and  an  eager  air. 

130.  "bawds";  Theobald's  emendation  of  "bonds,"  the  reading  of 
Qq.  and  F.  1.— I.  G. 

135.  "come  your  ways";  I  do  not  believe  that  in  this  or  any  other 
of  the  foregoing  speeches  of  Polonius,  Shakespeare  meant  to  bring 
out  the  senility  or  weakness  of  that  personage's  mind.  In  the  great 
ever-recurring  dangers  and  duties  of  life,  where  to  distinguish  the 
fit  objects  for  the  application  of  the  maxims  collected  by  the  expe- 
rience of  a  long  life,  requires  no  fineness  of  tact,  as  in  the  admoni- 
tions to  his  son  and  daughter,  Polonius  is  uniformly  made  re- 
spectable. It  is  to  Hamlet  that  Polonius  is,  and  is  meant  to  be, 
contemptible,  because,  in  inwardness  and  uncontrollable  activity  of 
movement,  Hamlet's  mind  is  the  logical  contrary  to  that  of  Polonius; 
and  besides,  Hamlet  dislikes  the  man  as  false  to  his  true  allegiance 
in  the  matter  of  the  succession  to  the  crown  (Coleridge). — H.  N.  H. 

2.  "The  unimportant  conversation,"  says  Coleridge,  "with  which 
this  scene  opens,  is  a  proof  of  Shakespeare's  minute  knowledge 
of  human  nature.  It  is  a  well-established  fact,  that  on  the  brink 
of  any  serious  enterprise,  or  event  of  moment,  men  almost  in- 
variably endeavour  to  elude  the  pressure  of  their  own  thoughts  by 
turning  aside  to  trivial  objects  and   familiar  circumstances.     Thus 

35 


Act  I.  Sc.  iv.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

Ham.  What  hour  now? 

Hor.  I  think  it  lacks  of  twelve. 

Mar.  No,  it  is  struck. 

Hor.  Indeed?  I  heard  it  not:  it  then  draws  near  the 
season 
Wherein  the  spirit  held  his  wont  to  walk. 
\_A  flourish  of  trumpets^  and  ordnance  shot  off 

within. 
What  doth  this  mean,  my  lord? 
Ham.  The  king  doth  wake  to-night  and  takes  his 
rouse. 
Keeps  wassail,  and  the  swaggering  up-spring 

reels ; 
And   as   he   drains   his   draughts   of   Rhenish 
down,  10 

The  kettle-drum  and  trumpet  thus  bray  out 
The  triumph  of  his  pledge. 
Hor.  Is  it  a  custom? 

the  dialogue  on  the  platform  begins  with  remarks  on  the  coldness 
of  the  air,  and  inquiries,  obliquely  connected  indeed  with  the  ex- 
pected hour  of  visitation,  but  thrown  out  in  a  seeming  vacuity  of 
topics,  as  to  the  striking  of  the  clock  and  so  forth.  The  same 
desire  to  escape  from  the  impending  thought  is  carried  on  in  Ham- 
let's account  of,  and  moralizing  on,  the  Danish  custom  of  wassail- 
ing: he  runs  oflF  from  the  particular  to  the  universal,  and,  in  his 
repugnance  to  personal  and  individual  concerns,  escapes,  as  it 
were,  from  himself  in  generalizations,  and  smothers  the  impatience 
and  uneasy  feelings  of  the  moment  in  abstract  reasoning.  Besides 
this,  another  purpose  is  answered; — for,  by  thus  entangling  the 
attention  of  the  audience  in  the  nice  distinctions  and  parenthetical 
sentences  of  this  speech  of  Hamlet,  Shakespeare  takes  them  com- 
pletely by  surprise  on  the  appearance  of  the  Ghost,  which  comes 
upon  them  in  all  the  suddenness  of  its  visionary  character.  In- 
deed, no  modern  writer  would  have  dared,  like  Shakespeare,  to 
have  preceded  this  last  visitation  by  two  distinct  appearances;  or 
could  have  contrived  that  the  third  should  rise  upon  the  former  two 
in  impressiveness  and  solemnity  of  interest." — H.  N.  H. 

86 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  I.  Sc.  iv. 

Ham.  Aye,  marry,  is  't: 

But  to  my  mind,  though  I  am  native  here 
And_to  the  manner  born,  it  is  a  custom 
'  More  honor'd  in  the  ^each  than  the  observance. 
This  heavy-headed  reveT^st  and  west 
Makes  us  traduced  and  taxa^oiother  nations: 
They  clepe   us   drunkards,   and   with   swinish 

^  phrase 
Soil  our  addition;  and  indeed  it  takes  20 

From  our  achievements,  though  perform'd  at 

height, 
I  The  pith  and  marrow  of  our  attribute. 
So7  oft  it  chances'm  particular  men. 
That  for  some  vicious  mole  of  nature  in  them, 
As,  in  their  birth, — ^wherein  they  are  not  guilty, 
Since  nature  cannot  choose  his  origin, — 
By  the  o'ergrowth  of  some  complexion. 
Oft   breaking   down   the   pales    and    forts   of 

reason. 
Or  by  some  habit  that  too  much  o'er-leavens 
The    form    of   plausive    manners,    that    these 

men, —  30 

Carrying,  1  say,  the  stamp  of  one  defect. 
Being  nature's  livery,  or  fortune's  star, — 
Their  virtues  else — be  they  as  pure  as  grace, 
As  infinite  as  man  may  undergo —  LS^mi:..  - 
Shall  in  the  general  censure  take  "corruption 
From  that  particular  fault ;  Vthe  dram  of  eale 

16.  "More  honor'd  in  the  breach  than  the  observance" ;  better  to 
break  than  observe. — C.  H.  H. 

17-38,  omitted  in  F.  1   (also  Q.  1).— I.  G. 
36-38. 

"the  dram  of  eale 
Doth  all  the  noble  substance  of  a  doubt 
To  his  own  scandal"; 

37 


Act  I.  Sc.  iv.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

Doth  all  the  noble  substance  of  a  doubt 
To  his  own  scandal. 

Enter  Ghost. 

Hor.  Look,  my  lord,  it  comes! 

Ham.  Angels  and  ministers  of  grace  defend  jisl 

this  famous  crux  has  taxed  the  ingenuity  of  generations  of 
scholars,  and  some  fifty  various  readings  and  interpretations  have 
been  proposed.  The  general  meaning  of  the  words  is  clear,  em- 
phasizing as  they  do  the  previous  statement  that  as  a  man's  virtues, 
be  they  as  pure  as  grace,  shall  in  the  general  censure  take  corrup- 
tion from  one  particular  fault,  even  so  "the  dram  of  eale"  reduces 
all  the  noble  substance  to  its  own  low  level. 

The  diflBculty  of  the  passage  lies  in  (i.)  "eale"  and  (ii.)  "doth 
.  .  .  of  a  doubt";  a  simple  explanation  of  (1)  is  that  "eale"zzz 
"e'il,"  i.  e.  "evil"  (similarly  in  Q.  2,  II.  ii.  627,  "deale"="de'ile"= 
"devil").  The  chief  objection  to  this  plausible  conjecture  is  that 
one  would  expect  something  rather  more  definite  than  "dram  of 
evil";  it  is  said,  however,  that  "eale"  is  still  used  in  the  sense  of 
"reproach"  in  the  western  counties.  Theobald  proposed  "base,"  prob- 
ably having  in  mind  the  lines  in  Cymbeline  (III.  v,  88): — 

"From  whose  so  many  weights  of  baseness  cannot 
A  dram  of  worth  be  drawn." 

As  regards  (ii.),  no  very  plausible  emendation  has  been  proposed; 
"of  a  doubt"  has  been  taken  to  be  a  printer's  error  for  "often  dout" 
"oft  endoubt,"  "offer  doubt,"  "oft  work  out,"  &c.  To  the  many 
questions  which  these  words  have  called  forth,  the  present  writer  is 
rash  enough  to  add  one  more: — Could,  perhaps,  "doth  of  a  doubt"=: 
deprives  of  the  benefit  of  a  doubt?  Is  there  any  instance  of  "do" 
in  XYIth  century  English  ="deprive";  the  usage  is  common  in 
modern  English  slang. — I.  G. 

38.  "In  addition  to  all  the  other  excellences  of  Hamlet's  speech 
concerning  the  wassel-music, — so  finely  revealing  the  predominant 
idealism,  the  ratiocinative  meditativeness  of  his  character, —  it  has 
the  advantage  of  giving  nature  and  probability  to  the  impassioned 
continuity  of  the  speech  instantly  directed  to  the  Ghost.  The  mo- 
mentum had  been  given  to  his  mental  activity;  the  full  current  of 
the  thoughts  and  words  had  set  in;  and  the  very  forgetfulness,  in 
the  fervour  of  his  argumentation,  of  the  purpose  of  which  he  was 
there,  aided  in  preventing  the  appearance  from  benumbing  the 
mind.  Consequently,  it  acted  as  a  new  impulse, —  a  sudden  stroke 
which  increased  the  velocity  of  the  body  already  in  motion,  whilst 

38 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  I.  Sc.  iv. 

Be  thou  a  spirit  of  health  or  goblin  damn'd,  40 
Bring  with  thee  airs  from  heaven  or  blasts  from  /? 

hell,  .       iJ^^ 

Be  thy  intents  wicked  or  c\mYitah\e,^^^,JCu»^ 
Thou  coniest  in  such  a  questionable  shape     v 
That  I  will  speak  to  thee :  I  '11  call  thee  Hamlet, 
King,  father,  royal  Dane:  O,  answer  me! 
Let  me  not  burst  in  ignorance;  but  tell 
Why  thy  canonized  bones,  hearsed  in  death, 
Have  burst  their  cerements ;  why  the  sepulcher, 
AVherein  we  saw  thee  quietly  inurn'd. 
Hath  oped  his  ponderous  and  marble  jaws,  50 
To  cast  thee  up  again.     What  may  this  mean, 
That  thou,  dead  corse,  again,  in  compjete  steel, 
Revisit'st  thus  the  glimpses  of  the  moon, 
Making  night  hideous;  and  we  fools  of  nature 
So  horridly  to  shake  our  disposition 
With  thoughts  beyond  the  reaches  of  our  souls? 
Say,  why  is  this?  wherefore?  what  should  we 
do?  [Ghost  beckons  Hamlet. 

Hor.  It  beckons  you  to  go  away  with  it. 
As  if  it  some  impartment  did  desire 
To  you  alone. 

it  altered  the  direction.  Tlie  co-presence  of  Horatio  and  Marcellus 
is  most  judiciously  contrived;  for  it  renders  the  courage  of  Hamlet, 
and  his  impetuous  eloquence,  perfectly  intelligible.  The  knowledge 
— the  sensation — of  human  auditors  acts  as  a  support  and  a  stimula- 
tion a  tergo,  while  the  front  of  the  mind,  the  whole  consciousness  of 
the  speaker,  is  fdled,  yea,  absorbed,  by  the  apparition.  Add,  too, 
that  the  ajjparition  itself  has,  by  its  previous  appearances,  been 
brought  nearer  to  a  thing  of  this  world.  This  accrescence  of  objec- 
tivity in  a  ghost  that  yet  retains  all  its  ghostly  attributes  and  fearful 
subjectivity,  is  truly  wonderful"  (Coleridge). — H.  N.  H. 

52.  "in  complete   .<>teel";  it   appears   from   Olaus  Wormius  that   it 
was  the  custom  to  Iniry  the  Danish  kings  in  their  armor. — H.  N.  H, 

^9 


Act  I.  Sc.  iv.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

Mar.  Look,  with  what  courteous  action  60 

It  waves  you  to  a  more  removed  ground: 
But  do  not  go  with  it. 

Hor.  No,  by  no  means. 

Ham.  It  will  not  speak;  then  I  will  follow  it. 

Hor.  Do  not,  my  lord. 

Ham.  Why,  what  should  be  the  fear? 

I  do  not  set  my  life  at  a  pin's  fee; 
And  for  my  soul,  what  can  it  do  to  that, 
Being  a  thing  immortal  as  itself? 
It  waves  me  forth  again :  I  '11  follow  it. 

Hor.  What  if  it  tempt  you  toward  the  flood,  my 
lord. 
Or  to  the  dreadful  summit  of  the  cliff         70 
That  beetles  o'er  his  base  into  the  sea, 
And  there  assume  some  other  horrible  form, 
Which    might    deprive    your    sovereignty    of 

reason 
And  draw  you  into  madness?  think  of  it: 
The  very  place  puts  toys  of  desperation. 
Without  more  motive,  into  every  brain 
That  looks  so  many  fathoms  to  the  sea 
And  hears  it  roar  beneath. 

Ham.  It  waves  me  still. 

Go  on ;  I  '11  follow  thee. 

Mar.  You  shall  not  go,  my  lord. 

Ham.  Hold  off^  your  hands.   80 

Hor.  Be  ruled;  you  shall  not  go. 

Ham.  My  fate  cries  out. 

And  makes  each  petty  artery  in  this  body 
As  hardy  as  the  Nemean  lion's  nerve. 

75-78,  omitted   in   F.   1.— I.  G. 
40 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  I.  Sc.  v. 

Still  am  I  call'd,  unhand  me,  gentlemen; 

By  heaven,  I  '11  make  a  ghost  of  him  that  let^J^ylt^^ 

me: 
I  say,  away !     Go  on ;  I  '11  follow  thee. 

[Exeunt  Ghost  and  Hamlet. 
Hor.  He  waxes  desperate  with  imagination. 
Mar.  Let 's  follow ;  'tis  not  fit  thus  to  obey  him. 
Hor.  Have  after.     To  what  issue  will  this  com©? 
Mar.  Something  is  rotten  in  the  state^of-'T) en- 
mark.  ^^ ----P.,--^  90 

Hor.  "iSeaven  will  direct  ii 

Mar.  Nay,  let 's  follow  him. 

\_Eajeunt. 

Scene  V 

Another  part  of  the  platform. 

Enter  Ghost  and  Hamlet. 

Ham.  Whither  wilt  thou  lead  me?  speak;  I  '11  go 

no  further. 
Ghost.  Mark  me. 
Ham.  I  will. 

Ghost.  My  hour  is  almost  come,  1 

When  I  to  sulphurous  and  tormenting  flames  / 

Must  render  up  myself. 
Ham.  Alas,  poor  ghost ! 

Ghost.  Pity  me  not,  but  lend  thy  serious  hearing 

To  what  I  shall  unfold. 

91.  "Heaven  will  direct  it";  Marcellus  answers  Horatio's  question, 
"To  what  issue  will  this  come?"  and  Horatio  also  answers  it  him- 
self with  pious  resignation,  "Heaven  will  direct  it." — H.  N.  H. 

41 


Act  I.  Sc.  V.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

Ham.  Speak ;  I  am  bound  to  hear. 

Ghost.  So  art  thou  to  revenue,  when  thou  shalt 

hear. 
Ham.  What?  < 
Ghost.  I  am  thy  father's  spirit; 

Doom'd  for  a  certain  term  to  walk  the  night,  10 
/And  for  the  day  confined  to  fast  in  fires, 
/  Till  the  foul  crimes  done  in  my  days  of  nature 
y  Are  burnt  and  purged  away.     But  that  I  am 
forbid 
To  tell  the  secrets  of  my  prison-house, 
I  could  a  tale  unfold  whose  lightest  word 
^ould  harrow  up  thy  soul,  freeze  thy  young 
/     blood. 

Make  thy  two  eyes,  like  stars,  start  from  their 
\    spheres. 

Thy  Jmotj:ed_and_combinedJpr^«  to  p^r^^^ 
And  each  particular  hair  to  stand  an  end. 
Like  quills  upon  the  fretful  porpentine:         20 
Rut  this  eternal  blazon  must  not  be 
To  ears  of  flesh  and  blood.     List,  list,  O,  list! 
If  thou  didst  ever  thy  dear  father  love — 

11.  "fast  in  fires";  the  spirit  being  supposed  to  feel  the  same  de- 
sires and  appetites  as  when  clothed  in  the  flesh,  the  pains  and  pun- 
ishments promised  by  the  ancient  moral  teachers  are  often  of  a 
sensual  nature.  Chaucer  in  the  Persones  Tale  says,  "The  misese  of 
hell  shall  be  in  defnute  of  mete  and  drinke."  So,  too,  in  The  Wyll 
of  the  Devyll:  "Thou  shalt  lye  in  frost  and  fire,  with  sicknes  and 
hunger." — Heath  proposed  "lasting  fires,"  and  such  is  the  change  in 
Collier's  second  folio. — H.   N.   H. 

13.  "burnt  and  purged";  Gawin  Douglas  really  changes  the  Pla- 
tonic hell  into  "the  punytion  of  the  saulis  in  purgatory."  "It  is 
a  nedeful  thyng  to  suffer  paines  and  torment; — sum  in  the  wyndis, 
sum  under  the  watter,  and  in  the  fire  uther  sum:  thus  the  mony 
vices  contrakkit  in  the  corpis  be  done  away  and  purgit." — H.  N.  H. 

J2,  "List,  list,  O,  list!"  so  Qq.;  F.  1,  "list,  Hamlet,  oh  list."— I.  G, 

42 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  I.  Sc.  v. 

Ham,  O  God! 

Ghost.  Revenge    his    foul    and    most    unnatural 
murder. 

Ham,  Murder!  ^ 

Ghost.  Murder  most  foul,  as  in  the  best  it  is,    -^Ctr^^^ 
But  this  most  foul,  strange,  and  unnatural. 

Ham,  Haste  me  to  know  't,  that  I,  with  wings  as 
swift 
As  meditation  or  the  tjioughts  of  love,  ^0 

May  sweep  to  my  revenge. 

Ghost.  I  find  thee  apt ; 

And  duller  shouldst  thou  be  than  the  fat  weed 
That  roots  itself  in  ease  on  Lethe  wharf, 
Wouldst  thou  not  stir  in  th^.     Now,  Hamlet, 

hear: 
'Tis  given  out  that,  sleeping  in  my  orchard, 
A  serpent  stung  me;  so  the  whole  ear  of  Den- 
mark 
Is  by  a  forged  process  of  my  death 
Rankly  abused:  but  know,  thou  noble  youth, 
The  serpent  that  did  sting  thy  father's  life 
Now  wears  his  crown. 

Ham.  O  my  prophetic  soul !    40 

My  uncle! 

Ghost.  Aye,  that  incestuous,  that  adulterate  beast. 
With    witchcraft   of  his   wit,    with    traitorous 

gifts,— 
O  wicked  wit  and  gifts,  that  have  the  power 
So  to  seduce! — won  to  his  shameful  lust 

37.  "process  of  my  death";  narrative  of  my  death. — C.  H.  H. 
40.  "my  prophetic  soul";  cf.  i.  2.  255,  "I  doubt  some  foul  play." — 
C.  H.  H. 

4>S 


Act  I.  Sc.  V.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

The  will  of  my  most  seeming-virtuous  queen : 

0  Hamlet,  what  a  falling-ofF  was  there! 
^From  me,  whose  love  was  of  that  dignity 

That  it  went  hand  in  hand  even  with  the  vow 

1  made  to  her  in  marriage ;  and  to  decline  y€A,^^iQu 
Upon  a  wretch,  whose  natural  gifts  were  poor    . 
To  those  of  mine! 

fBut  virtue,  as  it  never  will  be  moved, 
/Though  lewdness  court  it  in  a  shape  of  heaven, 
('So  lust,  though  to  a  radiant  angel  link'd, 
'Will  sate  itself  in  a  celestial  bed 
i^nd  prey  on  garbage. 

But,  soft!  methinks  I  scent  the  morning  air; 
Brief  let  me  be.l    Sleeping  within  my  orchard, 
My  custom  always  of  the  afternoon,  60 

Upon  my  secure  hour  thy  uncle  stole, 
With  juice  of  cursed  hebenon  in  a  vial. 
And  in  the  porches  of  my  ears  did  pour 
The  leperous  distilment;  whose  effect 
Holds  such  an  enmity  with  blood  of  man 
That  swift  as  quicksilver  it  courses  through 
The  natural  gates  and  alleys  of  the  body; 
And  with  a  sudden  vigor  it  doth  posset 
And  curd,  like  eager  droppings  into  milk, 
The    thin    and    wholesome    blood:    so    did    it 
mine ;  70 

And  a  most  instant  tetter  bark'd  about. 
Most  lazar-like,  with  vile  and  loathsome  crust, 
All  my  smooth  body. 
Thus  was  I,  sleeping,  by  a  brother's  hand 
Of  life,  of  crown,  of  queen,  at  once  dispatch'd : 
Cut  off  even  in  the  blossoms  of  my  sin, 

4i 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  I.  Sc.  y<    . 

Unhousel'd,  disappointed,  imaneleiL;  '  -6:i:^tA/'V'\>>^*^ 
No  reckoning  made,  but  sent  to  my  account 
With  all  my  imperfections  on  my  head: 
O,  horrible!  O,  horrible!  most  horrible!  80 

II f  thou  hast  nature  in  thee,  bear  it  not; 
Let  not  the  royal  bed  of  Denmark  be 
A  couch  for  luxury  and  damned  incest. 
But,  howsoever  thou  pursuest  this  act, 
JTaint  not  thy  mind,  nor  let  thy  soul  contrive 
Against  thy  mother  aught :  leave  her  to  heaven, 
And  to  those  thorns  that  in  her  bosom  lodge. 
To  prick  and  sting  her.     Fare  thee  well  at  once ! 
The  glow-worm  shows  the  matin  to  be  near. 
And  'gins  to  pale  his  uneiFectual  fire:  90 

Adieu,  adieu,  adieu!  remember  me.  [Exit. 

Ham.  O  all  you  host  of  heaven!  O  earth!  what 

else? 
And  shall  I  couple  hell?     O,  fie!     Hold,  hold, 

my  heart; 
And  you,  my  sinews,  grow  not  instant  old. 
But  bear  me  stiffly  up.     Remember  theeJ 
Aye,  thou  poor  ghost,  while  memory  holds  a 

seat 
In  this  distracted  globe.     Remember  thee! 
Yea,  from  the  table  of  my  memory 
I  '11  wipe  away  all  trivial  fond  records. 
All  saws   of   books,   all   forms,   all   pressures 

past,  100 

That  youth  and  observation  copied  there; 
And  thy  commandment  all  alone  shall  live 
Within  the  book  and  volume  of  my  brain, 
Unmix'd  with  baser  matter :  yes,  by  heaven ! 


45 


Act  I.  Sc.  V.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

O  most  pernicious  woman! 

0  villain,  villain,  smiling,  damned  villain! 
^ly  tables.. — meet  it  is  I  set  it  down, 

That   one    may    smile,    and    smile,    and    be    a 

villain ;  , 

At  least  I  'm  sure  it  may  be  so  in  Denmark. 

\_Wnting. 
So,  uncle,  there  you  are.  Now  to  my  word;  HO 
It  is  'Adieu,  adieu!  remember  me.'  4 

1  have  sworn  't. 

Mar]  [^*^^*'^^]  ^^y  1^^'^' "^y lo^^- 

Enter  Horatio  and  Marcellus, 

Mar.  Lord  Hamlet! 

Hor.  Heaven  secure  him! 

Ham.  So  be  it! 

Mar.  Illo,  ho,  ho,  my  lord! 

Ham.  Hillo,  ho,  ho,  boy !  come,  bird,  come. 

Mar.  How  is  't,  my  noble  lord? 

Hor.  What  news,  my  lord? 

Ham.  O,  wonderful! 

Hor.  Good  my  lord,  tell  it. 

Ham.  No ;  you  will  reveal  it 

Hor.  Not  I,  my  lord,  by  heaven. 

108.  "and  be  a  villain";  "I  lemember  nothing  equal  to  this  burst, 
unless  it  be  the  first  speech  of  Prometheus,  in  the  Greek  drama, 
after  the  exit  of  Vulcan  and  the  two  Af rites.  But  Shakespeare 
alone  could  have  produced  the  vow  of  Hamlet  to  make  his  memory 
a  blank  of  all  maxims  and  freneralized  truths  that  'observation  had 
copied  there,' — followed  immediately  by  the  speaker  noting  down 
the  generalized  fact,  'That  one  may  smile,  and  smile,  and  be  a 
villain"  (Coleridge).— H.  N.  H, 

116.  "Hillo.  ho.  ho";  Hamlet  imitates  the  falconer's  call  to  hig 
hawk.— C.  H.  H. 

46 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  I.  Sc.  v. 

Mar.  Nor  I,  my  lord.       120 

Ham.  How  say  you,  then;  would  heart  of  man 
once  think  it? 
But  you'  11  be  secret? 

^j^^*  [  Aye,  by  heaven,  my  lord. 

Ham.  There  's  ne'er  a  villain  dwelling  in  all  Den- 
mark 
But  he  's  an  arrant  knave. 
Hor.  There  needs  no  ghost,  my  lord,  come  from  the 
grave 
To  tell  us  this. 
Ham.  Why,  right ;  you  are  i'  the  right ; 

And  so,  without  more  circumstance  at  all, 
I  hold  it  fit  that  we  shake  hands  and  part : 
You,  as  your  business  and  desire  shall  point  you ; 
For  every  man  hath  business  and  desire,        130 
Such  as  it  is ;  and  for  my  own  poor  part, 
Look  you,  I  '11  go  pray. 
Hor.  These  are  but  wild  and  whirling  words,  my 

lord. 
Ham.  I  'm  sorry  they  offend  you,  heartily ; 

Yes,  faith,  heartily. 
Hor.  There  's  no  offense,  my  lo^-d. 

Ham.  Yes,  by  Saint  Patrick,  but  there  is,  Horatio, 
And  much  offense  too.     Touching  this  vision 

here. 
It  is  an  honest  ghost,  that  let  me  tell  you : 
For  your  desire  to  know  what  is  between  us, 
O'ermaster  't  as  j^ou  may.     And  now,  good 

friends,  140 

As  you  are  friends,  scholars  and  soldiers, 

i7 


Act  I.  Sc.  V.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

Give  me  one  poor  request. 
Hor.  What  is 't,  my  lord?  we  will. 
Ham.  Never  make  known  what  you  have  seen  to- 
night. 

^,  ^  '  I     My  lord,  we  will  not. 
Hor,  \         •' 

Ham.  Nay,  but  swear  't. 

Hor.  In  faith. 

My  lord,  not  I. 
Mar.  Nor  I,  my  lord,  in  faith. 

Ham.  Upon  my  sword. 

Mar.  We  have  sworn,  my  lord,  already. 

Ham.  Indeed,  upon  my  sword,  indeed. 
Ghost.  [Beneath]  Swear. 

Ham.  Ah,  ha,  boy!  say'st  thou  so?  art  thou  there, 
truepenny  ?  150 

Come  on :  you  hear  this  fellow  in  the  cellarage : 

Consent  to  swear. 
Hor.  Propose  the  oath,  my  lord. 

Ham.  Never  to  speak  of  this  that  you  have  seen, 

Swear  by  my  sword. 
Ghost.   [Beneath]  Swear. 
Ham.  Hie  et  ubique?  then  we  '11  shift  our  ground. 

Come  hither,  gentlemen, 

148.  "upon  my  sword";  the  custom  of  swearing  by  the  sword,  or 
rather  by  the  cross  at  the  upper  end  of  it,  is  very  ancient.  The 
name  of  Jesus  was  not  unfrequently  inscribed  on  the  handle.  The 
allusions  to  this  custom  are  very  numerous  in  our  old  writers. — 
H.  N.  H. 

149.  "sivear";  here  again  we  follow  the  folio,  with  which  the  first 
quarto  agrees.  In  the  other  quartos,  this  speech  reads,  "Swear  by 
his  sword";  and  the  last  two  lines  of  the  preceding  speech  are 
transposed.  In  the  next  line,  the  folio  has  ground  instead  of  earth. 
— H.  N.  H. 

48 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  I.  Sc.  v. 

And  lay  your  hands  again  upon  my  sword : 
Never  to  speak  of  this  that  you  have  heard. 
Swear  by  my  sword.  160 

Ghost.   [BeneatK]  Swear. 

Ham.  Well  said,  old  mole!  canst  work  i'  the  earth 
so  fast? 
A  worthy  pioner!     Once  more  remove,   good 
friends. 
Hor.  O  day  and  night,  but  this  is  wondrous 

strange ! 
Ham.  And  therefore  as  a  stranger  give  it  welcome. 
I  There  are  more  things  in  heaven  and  earth, 
I       Horatio, 

[Prhan  are  dreamt  of  in  your  philosophy. 
But  come ; 

Here,  as  before,  never,  so  help  you  mercy, 
How  strange  or  odd  soe'er  I  bear  myself,      170 
As  I  perchance  hereafter  shall  think  meet 
To  put  an  antic  disposition  on, 
That  you,  at  such  times  seeing  me,  never  shall, 
With  arms  encumber'd  thus,  or  this  head-shake. 
Or  by  pronouncing  of  some  doubtful  phrase, 
As  'Well,  well,  we  know,'  or  'We  could,  an  if 

we  would,' 
Or  'If  we  list  to  speak,'  or  'There  be,  an  if  they 

might,' 
Or  such  ambiguous  giving  out,  to  note 

167.  "your  philosophy" ;  so  read  all  the  quartos;  the  folio,  "our 
philosophy."  The  passage  has  had  so  long  a  lease  of  familiarity, 
as  it  stands  in  the  text,  that  it  seems  best  not  to  change  it.  Besides, 
your  gives  a  nice  characteristic  shade  of  meaning  that  is  lost  in  our. 
Of  course  it  is  not  Horatio's  philosophy,  but  your  philosophy,  that 
Hamlet  is  speaking  of. — H.  N.  H. 

XX— 4  49 


Act  I.  Sc.  V. 


TRAGEDY  OF  HAIMLET 


That  you  know  aught  of  me :  this  not  to  do, 
So  grace  and  mercy  at  your  most  need  help 
you,  1^^ 

Swear. 
Ghost.  [Beneatli]   Swear. 

Ham.  Rest,  rest,  perturbed  spirit!     [They  swear. 1 
So,  gentlemen. 
With  all  my  love  I  do  commend  me  to  you : 
And  what  so  poor  a  man  as  Hamlet  is 
May  do,  to  express  his  love  and  friending  to 

you, 
God  willing,  shall  not  lack.     Let  us  go  in  to- 
gether ; 
And  still  your  fingers  on  your  lips,  I  pray^ 
/The  time  is  out  of  joint :  O  cursed  spite, 
I  That  ever  I  was  born  to  set  it  right !  19^ 

Nay,  come,  let 's  go  together.  [Exeunt. 

187.  "Let  us  go  in  together";  "This  part  of  the  scene  after  Ham- 
let's interview  with  the  Ghost  has  been  charged  with  an  improbable 
eccentricity.  But  the  truth  is,  that  after  the  mind  has  been 
stretched  beyond  its  usual  pitch  and  tone,  it  must  either  sink  into 
exhaustion  and  inanity,  or  seek  relief  by  change.  It  is  thus  well 
known,  that  persons  conversant  in  deeds  of  cruelty  contrive  to  esca])e 
from  conscience  by  connecting  something  of  the  ludicrous  with' them, 
and  by  inventing  grotesque  terms  and  a  certain  technical  phraseology 
to  disguise  the  horror  of  their  practices.  Indeed,  paradoxical  as  it 
may  appear,  the  tejxjble  bva  Jaa;  of  the  human  mind  alwa^ 
touches  on  the  verge  of  the  Imficrous.  BotlT~arTse  from  The  percep- 
tion  of  something  out  of  the  common"  order  of  things, — somethingJ 
in  fact,  out  of  its  place;  and  if  from  this  we  can  abstract  thd 
danger,  the  uncommonness  alone  will  remain,  and  the  sense  of  thq 
ridiculous  be  excited.  The  close  alliance  of  these  opposites — they 
are  not  contraries^appears  from  the  circumstance,  that  laughter  [ 
is  equally  the  expression  of  extreme  anguish  and  horror  as  of  joy:^ 
as  there  are  tears  of  sorrow  and  tearsof  joy,  so  there  is  a  lau^h 
of  terror  and  a  JaiigR~of  merrimenT  These  complex  causes  will 
naturally  have  producecTm  Hamlet~Ttie  disposition  to  escape  from 
his  own  feelings  of  the  overwhelming  and  supernatural  by  a  wild 
transition  to  the  ludicrous, — a  sort  of  cunning  bravado,  border- 
ing on  the  flights  of  delirium"   (Coleridge). — H.  N.  H. 

50 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  ii.  Sc.  i. 


ACT  SECOND 

Scene  I 

A  room  in  Polonius's  house. 

Enter  Polonins  and  Reynaldo. 

Pol.  Give  him  this  money  and  these  notes,  Rey- 
naldo. 
Rey.  I  will,  my  lord. 

Pol.  You  shall  do  marvelous  wisely,   good  Rey- 
naldo, 
Before  you  visit  him,  to  make  inquire 
Of  his  behavior. 
Rey.  My  lord,  I  did  intend  it. 

Pol.  Marry,  well  said,  very  well  said.     Look  you, 

sir,  JHou^xjL^ 

Inquire  me  first  what  Danskers  are  in  Paris, 
And  how,  and  who,  what  means,  and  where  they 

keep. 
What  company,  at  what  expense,  and  finding 
By  this  encompassment  and  drift  of  question  10 
That  they  do  know  my  son,  come  you  more 

nearer 
Than  your  particular  demands  will  touch  it: 

The  stage  direction  in  Qq. : — Enter  old  Polonins,  with  his  man  or 
two;  Ff.,  Polonius  and  Reynaldo;  in  Q.  1,  Reynaldo  is  called  Mon- 
tano,  hence  perhaps  the  reading  of  later  Qq. — I.  G. 

4.  "to  make  inquire";  so  Qq. ;  Ff.  read,  "you  make  inquiry." — I.  G. 

51 


Act  11.  Sc.  i.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

Take  you,  as  'twere,  some  distant  knowledge  of 

him. 
As  thus,  'I  know  his  father  and  his  friends, 
And  in  part  him:'  do  j^ou  mark  this,  Reynaldo? 

Rey.  Aye,  very  well,  my  lord. 

Pol.  'And  in  part  him ;  but'  you  may  say,  'not  well : 
But  if  't  be  he  I  mean,  he  's  very  wild. 
Addicted  so  and  so ;'  and  there  put  on  him 
What   forgeries   you   please;   marry,   none   so 
rank  20 

As  may  dishonor  him;  take  heed  of  that; 
But,  sir,  such  wanton,  wild  and  usual  slips 
As  are  companions  noted  and  most  known 
To  youth  and  liberty. 

Rey.  As  gaming,  my  lord. 

Pol.  Aye,  or  drinking,  fencing,  swearing,  quarrel- 
ing; 
Drabbing:  you  may  go  so  far. 

Rey.  My  lord,  that  would  dishonor  him. 

Pol.  Faith,  no ;  as  you  may  season  it  in  the  charge. 
You  must  not  put  another  scandal  on  him, 
That  he  is  open  to  incontinency ;  30 

That 's  not  my  meaning :  but  breathe  his  faults 

so  quaintly 
That  they  may  seem  the  taints  of  liberty. 
The  flash  and  outbreak  of  a  fiery  mind, 
A  savageness  in  unreclaimed  blood. 
Of  general  assault. 

27.  "fencing,  sioearing,  quarreling" ;  "the  cunning  of  fencers  is 
now  applied  to  quarrelling;  they  thinke  themselves  no  men,  if,  for 
stirring  of  a  straw,  they  prove  not  their  valure  uppon  some  bodies 
fleshe."  (Gosson's  Schole  of  Abuse,  1579).— H.  N.  H. 

52 


PRINCE  or  DENMARK  Act  ii.  Sc.  i. 

Rey.  But,  my  good  lord, — 

Pol.  Wherefore  should  you  do  this? 

Rey.  Aye,  my  lord, 

I  would  know  that. 

Pol.  Marry,  sir,  here  's  my  drift, 

And  I  believe  it  is  a  fetch  of  warrant: 
You  laying  these  slight  sullies  on  my  son, 
As  'twere  a  thing  a  little  soil'd  i'  the  working,  -40 
Mark  you. 

Your  party  in  converse,  him  you  would  sound, 
Having  ever  seen  in  the  prenominate  crimes 
The  youth  you  breathe  of  guilty,  be  assured 
He  closes  with  you  in  this  consequence ; 
'Good  sir,'  or  so,  or  'friend,'  or  'gentleman,' 
According  to  the  phrase  or  the  addition 
Of  man  and  country. 

Rey.  Very  good,  my  lord. 

Pol.  And  then,  sir,  does  he  this — he  does — what 
was  I  about  to  say?     Bj^  the  mass,  I  was    50 
about  to  say  something:  where  did  I  leave? 

Rey.  At  'closes  in  the  consequence,'  at  'friend 
or  so,'  and  'gentleman.' 

Pol.  At  'closes  in  the  consequence,'  aye,  marry ; 
He  closes  with  you  thus:  'I  know  the  gentleman; 
I  saw  him  yesterda}^  or  t'  other  day. 
Or  then,  or  then,  with  such,  or  such,  and,  as  you 

say, 
There  was  a'  gaming,  there  o'ertook  in  's  rouse. 
There  falling  out  at  tennis:'  or  perchance, 
'I  saw  him  enter  such  a  house  of  sale,'  60 

Videlicet,  a  brothel,  or  so  forth. 
See  you  now; 

53 


Act  11.  Sc.  i.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

Your  bait  of  falsehood  takes  this  carp  of  truth : 

And  thus  do  we  of  wisdom  and  of  reach, 

With  windlasses  and  with  assays  of  bias, 

By  indirections  find  directions  out: 

So,  by  my  former  lecture  and  advice, 

Shall  you  my  son.     You  have  me,  have  you  not? 

Rei).  My  lord,  I  have. 

Pol.  God  be  wi'  ye;  fare  ye  well. 

Rey.  Good,  my  lord !  70 

Pol.  Observe  his  inclination  in  yourself. 

Rey.  I  shall,  my  lord. 

Pol.  And  let  him  ply  his  music: 

Rey.  Well,  my  lord. 

Pol.  Farewell!  [Eaoit  Reynaldo. 

Enter  Ophelia. 

How  now,  Ophelia!  what's  the  matter? 

Oph.  O,  my  lord,  my  lord,  I  have  been  so  afFrighed  1 

Pol.  With  what,  i'  the  name  of  God? 

Oph.  My  lord,  as  I  was  sewing  in  my  closet, 
Lord  Hamlet,  with  his  doublet  all  unbraced, 
No  hat  upon  his  head,  his  stockings  f  oul'd, 
Ungarter'd  and  down-gyved  to  his  ankle;       80 
Pale  as  his  shirt,  his  knees  knocking  each  other. 
And  with  a  look  so  pitious  in  purport 
As  if  he  had  been  loosed  out  of  hell 
To  speak  of  horrors,  he  comes  before  me. 

Pol.  Mad  for  thy  love? 

Oph.  My  lord,  I  do  not  know. 

But  truly  I  do  fear  it. 

71.  "observe  his  inclination  in  you";  that  is,  in  your  own  person; 
add  your  own  observations  of  his  conduct  to  these  inquiries  respect- 
ing hira. — H.  N.  H. 

54> 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  II.  Sc.  i. 

Pol.  What  said  he? 

Oph.  He  took  me  by  the  wrist  and  held  me  hard; 
Then  goes  he  to  the  length  of  all  his  arm, 
And  with  his  other  hand  thus  o'er  his  brow, 
He  falls  to  such  perusal  of  my  face  90 

As  he  would  draw  it.     Long  stay'd  he  so; 
At  last,  a  little  shaking  of  mine  arm, 
And  thrice  his  head  thus  waving  up  and  down. 
He  raised  a  sigh  so  piteous  and  profound 
As  it  did  seem  to  shatter  all  his  bulk 
And  end  his  being:  that  done,  he  lets  me  go: 
And  with  his  head  over  his  shoulder  turn'd, 
He  seem'd  to  find  his  way  without  his  eyes ; 
For  out  o'  doors  he  went  without  their  helps, 
And  to  the  last  bended  their  light  on  me.       100 

Pol.  Come,  go  with  me :  I  will  go  seek  the  king. 
This  is  the  very  ecstasy  of  love ; 
Whose  violent  property  fordoes  itself 
And  leads  the  will  to  desperate  undertakings 
As  oft  as  any  passion  under  heaven 
That  does  afflict  our  natures.     I  am  sorry. 
What,  have  you  given  him  any  hard  words  of 
late? 

Oph.  No,  my  good  lord,  but,  as  you  did  command, 
I  did  repel  his  letters  and  denied 
His  access  to  me. 

Pol.  That  hath  made  him  mad.    HO 

I  am  sorry  that  with  better  heed  and  judgment 
I  had  not  quoted  him :  I  f ear'd  he  did  but  trifle 
And  meant  to  wreck  thee ;  but  beshrew  my  jeal- 
ousy ! 
By  heaven,  it  is  as  proper  to  our  age 


Act  II.  Sc.  i.    •  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

To  cast  beyond  ourselves  in  our  opinions 
As  it  is  common  for  the  younger  sort 
To  lack  discretion.     Come,  go  we  to  the  king: 
This  must  be  known;  which,  being  kept  close, 

might  move 
More  grief  to  hide  than  hate  to  utter  love. 
Come.  [Exeunt. 

Scene  IJ 

A  room  in  the  castle. 

Flourish.     Enter  King,  Queen,  Rosencrantz, 
Guildenstern,  and  Attendants. 

King.  Welcome,  dear  Rosencrantz  and  Guilden- 

stern ! 
Moreover  that  we  much  did  long  to  see  you. 
The  need  we  have  to  use  you  did  provoke 
Our  hasty  sending.     Something  have  you  heard 
Of  Hamlet's  transformation;  so  call  it, 
Sith  nor  the  exterior  nor  the  inward  man 
Resembles  that  it  was.     What  it  should  be. 
More  than  his  father's  death,  that  thus  hath  put 

him 

118.  "being  kept  close";  "this  must  be  made  known  to  the  king,  for 
the  hiding  Hamlet's  love  might  occ-asion  more  mischief  to  us  from 
him  and  the  queen,  than  the  uttering  or  revealing  it  will  occasion 
hate  and  resentment  from  Hamlet."  Johnson,  whose  explanation 
this  is,  attributes  the  obscurity  to  the  Poet's  "afectation  of  conclud- 
ing the  scene  with  a  couplet."  There  would  surely  have  been  more 
affectation  in  deviating  from  the  universally  established  custom. — 
The  quartos  add  Come,  after  the  closing  couplet. — H.  N.  H. 

2.  "Moreover  that" ;  we  do  not  recollect  another  instance  of  more- 
over that  used  in  this  way.  Of  course,  the  sense  is  the  same  as 
besides  that,  or  "over  and  above  the  fact  that,"  &c. — H.  N.  H. 

56 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  ii.  Sc.  ii. 

So  much  from  the  understandhig  of  himself, 
I  cannot  dream  of :  I  entreat  you  both,  10 

That,  being  of  so  young  days  brought  up  with 

him 
And  sith  so  neighbor'd  to  his  youth  and  havior. 
That  you  vouchsafe  your  rest  here  in  our  court 
Some  Httle  time :  so  by  your  companies 
To  draw  him  on  to  pleasures,  and  to  gather 
So  much  as  from  occasion  you  may  glean, 
Whether  aught  to  us  unknown  afflicts  him  thus, 
That  open'd  lies  within  oiu-  remedy. 

Queen.  Good  gentlemen,  he  liath  much  talk'd  of 
you. 
And  sure  I  am  two  men  there  are  not  living  20 
To  whom  he  more  adheres.     If  it  will  please 

you 
To  show  us  so  much  gentry  and  good  will 
As  to  expend  your  time  with  us  awhile 
For  the  supply  and  profit  of  our  hope. 
Your  visitation  shall  receive  such  thanks 
As  fits  a  king's  remembrance. 

Ros.  Both  your  majesties 

Might,  by  the  sovereign  power  you  have  of  us. 
Put  your  dread  pleasures  more  into  cQinmand 
Than  to  eiitceaty. 

Guil.  But  we  both  obey. 

And  here  give  up  ourselves,  in  the  full  bent     30 
To  lay  our  service  freely  at  your  feet. 
To  be  commanded. 

10.  "dream  of";  so  the  quartos;  the  folio,  "deem  of." — H.  N.  H. 
17.  Omitted  In  Ff.— I.  G. 


51 


Act  II.  Sc  ii.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

King.  Thanks,  Rosencrantz  and  gentle  Guilden- 

stern. 
Queen.  Thanks,   Guildenstern  and  gentle  Rosen- 
crantz : 
And  I  beseech  you  instantly  to  visit 
My  too  much  changed  son.     Go,  some  of  you, 
And  bring  these  gentlemen  where  Hamlet  is. 
Guil.  Heavens  make  our  presence  and  our  practices 

Pleasant  and  helpful  to  him! 
Queen.  Aye,  amen! 

[Exeunt  Rosencrantz,  Guildenstern,  and  some 
Attendants.  - 

Enter  Polonius. 

Pol.  The   ambassadors   from   Norway,   my   good 
lord,  40 

Are  joyfully  return'd. 

King.  Thou  still  hast  been  the  father  of  good  news. 

Pol.  Have  I,  my  lord?     I  assure  my  good  liege, 
I  hold  my  duty  as  I  hold  my  soul, 
Both  to  my  God  and  to  my  gracious  king: 
And  I  do  think,  or  else  this  brain  of  mine 
Hunts  not  the  trail  of  policy  so  sure 
As  it  hath  used  to  do,  that  I  have  found 
The  very  cause  of  Hamlet's  lunacy. 

King.  O,  speak  of  that ;  that  do  I  long  to  hear.  50 

Pol.  Give  first  admittance  to  the  ambassadors ; 
My  news  shall  be  the  fruit  to  that  great  feast. 

King.  Thyself  do  grace  to  them,  and  bring  them  in. 

[Exit  Polonius. 
He  tells  me,  my  dear  Gertrude,  he  hath  found 
The  head  and  source  of  all  your  son's  distemper. 

58 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  n.  Sc.  ii. 

Queen.  I  doubt  it  is  no  other  but  the  main ; 

His  father's  death  and  our  o'erhasty  marriage. 
King.  Well,  we  shall  sift  him. 

Re-enter  Polonius^  with  Voltimand  and  Cornelius. 

Welcome,  my  good  friends ! 
Say,  Voltimand,  what  from  our  brother  Nor- 
way? 
Volt.  Most  fair  return  of  greetings  and  desires.  60 

^  Upon  our  first,  he  sent  out  to  suppress 

His  nephew's  levies,  which  to  him  appear'd  oAy'*^ 

To  be  a  preparation  'gainst  the  Polack,  ^^^^    Ijilyvi/'y^ 

But  better  look'd  into,  he  truly  found 

It  was  against  your  highness:  whereat  grieved, 

That  so  his  sickness,  age  and  impotence 

Was  falsely  borne  in  hand^sends  out  arrests 

On  Fortinbras;  which  he,  in  brief,  obeys. 

Receives  rebuke  from  Norway,  and  in  fine 

Makes  vow  before  his  uncle  never  more  70 

To  give  the  assay  of  arms  against  your  majesty. 

^  Whereon  old  Norway,  overcome  with  joy,  TjJ^ 

Gives  him  three  thousand  crowns  in  annual  fee 
And  his  commission  to  employ  those  soldiers. 
So  levied  as  before,  against  the  Polack: 
With  an  entreaty,  herein  further  shown, 

\Giving  a  paper. 
That  it  might  please  you  to  give  quiet  pass 
Through  your  dominions  for  this  enterprise. 
On  such  regards  of  safety  and  allowance 
As  therein  are  set  down. 

61.  "Upon  our  f,rst" ;  on  our  first  application. — C.  H.  H. 
73.  "three";  so  Q.  1  and  Ff.;  Qq.  read  "threescore."— I.  G. 

59 


Act  II.  Sc.  ii.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

Kbiir.  It  likes  us  well,         80 

And  at  our  more  consider'd  time  M-e  '11  re^d, 
AjLlSiJ^er,  and  think  upon  this  business. 
]\leantime   we   thank   you    for   your  well-took 

labor : 
Go  to  your  rest;  at  night  we  '11  feast  together: 
Most  welcome  liome! 

lEireunt  Voltimand  and  Cornelius. 

Pol.  This  business  is  well  ended. 

My  liege,  and  madam,  to  expostulate  \ 

What  majesty  should  be,  what  duty  is, 
Why  day  is  day,  night  night,  and  time  is  time, 
Were  nothing  but  to  waste  night,  day  and  time. 
Therefore,  since  brevity  is  the  soul  of  wit         90 
And  tediousness  the  limbs  and  outward  flour- 
ishes, 
I  will  be  brief.     Your  noble  son  is  mad : 
JNIad  call  I  it;  for,  to  define  true  madness, 
What  is  't  but  to  be  nothing  else  but  mad? 
But  let  that  sro. 


&' 


n 


Queen.  ]More  matter,  'ynjiv  less  a;'t, 

Pol.  Madam,  I  swear  I  use  no  art'atall.  iU**^ 
That  he  is  mad,  'tis  true:  'tis  true  'tis  pity,       /) 
And  pity  'tis  'tis  true:  a  foolish  figure ;•«  4^6^^-^ 
But  farewell  it,  for  I  will  use  no  art.  "XMx^ 
Mad  let  us  grant  him  then :  and  now  remains  100 
That  we  find  out  tlie  cause  of  this  effect. 
Or  rather  say,  the  cause  of  this  defect. 
For  this  effect  defective  comes  by  cause: 
Thus  it  remains  and  the  remainder  thus. 
Perpend. 

I  have  a  daughter, — have  while  she  is  mine, — 

60 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act.  ii.  Sc.  ii. 

Who  ill  her  duty  and  obedience,  mark, 
Hath  given  me  this :  now  gather  and  surmise. 

IReads. 

'To  the  celestial,  and  my  soul's  idol,  the 
most  beautified  Ophelia,' —  HO 

That 's  an  ill  phrase,  a  vile  phrase ;  'beauti- 
fied' is  a  vile  phrase;  but  you  shall  hear. 
Thus:  [Reads. 

'In  her  excellent  white  bosom,  these,'  &c. 

Queen.  Came  this  from  Hamlet  to  her? 

Pol.  Good  madam,  stay  awhile;  I  will  be  faith- 
ful. [Reads. 

'Doubt  thou  the  stars  are  fire ; 

Doubt  that  the  sun  doth  move ; 
Doubt  truth  to  be  a  liar ;  120 

But  never  doubt  I  love. 

'O  dear  Ophelia,  I  am  ill  at  these  number:^] 
I  have  not  ai^^  to  reckon  my  groans :  but  that 
I  love  thee  best,  O  most  best,  believe  it. 
Adieu.  'Thine  evermore,  most  dear  lady, 
whilst  this  iTu^^olline  is  to  him,         Hamlet.' 

This  in  obedience  nath  my  daughter  shown  me ; 

108.  "Hath  given  me  this."  We  must  sujipose  Hamlet's  letter 
to  have  been  one  of  those  received  by  Oplielia  before  hiie  was  re- 
quired to  "repel"  them  (i.  3.  122);  written,  therefore,  before  the 
opening  of  the  play,  and  unaffected  by  Hamlet's  feigned  eccentricity.* 
— C.   H.  H. 

110.  "beautified"  is  not  uncommon  in  dedications  and  encomiastic 
verses  of  the  Poet's  age. — H.  N.  H. 

113.  The  word  "these"  was  usually  added  at  the  end  of  the  super- 
scription of  letters. — H.  N.  H. 

114.  Elizabethan  ladies  wore  a  pocket  in  the  fore-part  of  their 
stavs,  to  which  they  consigned  tlieir  more  confidential  correspondence. 
— C.  H.  H. 

61 


Act  II.  Sc.  ii.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

And  more  above,  hath  his  sohcitings, 

As  they  fell  out  by  time,  by  means  and  place. 

All  given  to  mine  ear.  130 

King.  But  how  hath  she 

Received  his  love  ? 

Pol.  What  do  you  think  of  me? 

King.  As  of  a  man  faithful  and  honorable. 

Pol.  I  would  fain  prove  so.     But  what  might  you 
think, 
When  I  had  seen  this  hot  love  on  the  wing, — 
As  I  perceived  it,  I  must  tell  you  that. 
Before  my  daughter  told  me, — what  might  you, 
Or  my  dear  majesty  your  queen  here,  think, 
If  I  had  play'd  the  desk  or  table-book. 
Or  given  my  heart  a  winking,  mute  and  dumb. 
Or  look'd  upon  this  love  with  idle  sight;        140 
What  might  you  think?     No,  I  went  round  to 

work. 
And  my  young  mistress  thus  I  did  bespeak : 
'Lord  Hamlet  is  a  prince,  out  of  thy  star ; 
This  must  not  be:'  and  then  I  prescripts  gave 

her. 
That  she  should  lock  herself  from  his  resort, 
Admit  no  messengers,  receive  no  tokens. 
Which  done,  she  took  the  fruits  of  my  advice ; 
'And  he  repulsed,  a  short  tale  to  make. 
Fell  into  a  sadness,  then  into  a  fast. 
Thence  to  a  watch,  thence  into  a  weakness,     150 
Thence  to  a  lightness,  and  by  this  declension 
Into  the  madness  wherein  now  he  raves 
And  all  we  mourn  for. 

King.  Do  you  think  this? 

62 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  II.  Sc.  ii. 

Queen.  It  may  be,  very  like. 

Pol.  Hath  there  been  such  a  time,  I  'Id  fain  know 
that, 

That  I  have  positively  said  "tis  so,' 

When  it  proved  otherwise? 
King.  Not  that  I  know.     •^Scf^,.  ' 

PoL  [Pointing  to  his  head  and  shoulder]  Take  this  ^/V^ 
from  this,  if  this  be  otherwise :  {/^^^ 

If  circumstances  lead  me,  I  will  find 

Where  truth  is  hid,  though  it  were  hid  indeed  160 

Within  the  center. 
King.  How  may  we  try  it  further? 

Pol.  You  know,  sometimes  he  walks  four  hours  to- 
gether 

Here  in  the  lobby. 
Queen.  So  he  does,  indeed. 

Pol.  At  such  a  time  I  '11  loose  my  daughter  to  him : 

Be  you  and  I  behind  an  arras  then;  .Jl/rtyoA^^ 

Mark  the  encounter :  if  he  love  her  not,        (J     ^^^^^ 

And  be  not  from  his  reason  fall'n  thereon. 

Let  me  be  no  assistant  for  a  state. 

But  keep  a  farm  and  carters. 
King.  We  will  try  it. 

Queen.  But   look    where    sadly   the   poor    wretch 
comes  reading.  170 

Pol.  Away,  I  do  beseech  you,  both  away :        *  ^^.JU-^^ 

I  '11  boar^  him  presently,  ^i^u-ex-xu-*/^^  —  ,,<x»'»-''»— *^^ 
[Exeunt  King,  Queen,  and  Attendants. 

Enter  Hamlet,  reading. 

O,  give  me  leave:  how  does  my  good  Lord 
Hamlet  ? 


'^'^'*'^^^ 


Act  II.  Sc.  ii.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

Ham.  Well,  God-a-mercy. 

Pol.  Do  you  know  me,  my  lord  ? 

Ham.  Excellent  well ;  you  are  a  fishmonger. 

Pol.  Not  I,  my  lord. 

Ham.  Then  I  would  you  were  so  honest  a  man. 

Pol.  Honest,  my  lord. 

Ham.  Aye,  sir;  to  be  honest,  as  this  world  goes,  180 
is  to  be  one  man  picked  out  of  ten  thousand. 

Pol.  That 's  very  true,  my  lord. 

Ham.  For  if  the  sun  breed  maggots  in  a  dead 
dog,  being  a  god  kissing  carrion — Have  you 
a  daughter? 

Pol.  I  have,  my  lord. 

Ham.  Let  her  not  walk  i'  the  sun:  conception  is 
a  blessing;  but  as  your  daughter  may  con- 
ceive,— friend,  look  to  't. 

Pol.  [Aside^  How  say  you  by  that?  Still  190 
harping  on  my  daughter:  yet  he  knew  me 
not  at  first;  he  said  I  was  a  fishmonger:  he 
is  far  gone:  and  truly  in  my  youth  I  suf- 
fered much  extremity  for  loA^e;  very  near 
this.  I  '11  s^jeak  to  him  again. — What  do 
you  read,  my  lord? 

Ham.  Words,  words,  w^ords. 

Pol.  What  is  the  matter,  my  lord? 

Ham.  Between  who? 

Pol.  I  mean,  the  matter  that  you  read,  my  lord.  200 

Ham.  Slanders,  sir:  for  the  satirical  rogue  says 
here  that  old  men  have  gray  beards,  that 
their  faces  are  wrinkled,  their  eyes  purging 
thick  amber  and  ])hnn-tree  gum,  and  that 
they  have  a  plentiful  lack  of  wit,  together 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act.  ii.  Sc.  ii. 

with  most  weak  hams :  all  which,  sir,  though 
I  most  powerfully  and  potently  believe,  yet 
I  hold  it  not  honesty  to  have  it  thus  set 
down;  for  yourself,  sir,  shall  grow^  old  as  I 
am,  if  like  a  crab  you  could  go  backward.  210' 
Pol.  [Asidel  Though  this  be  madness,  yet  there^ 
is  method  in  't. — Will  j^ou  walk  out  of  the 

air,  my  lord?    >x1^mA    \P\s  >Vl^-1cU/k^ 
Ham.  Into  my  grave.  \  \^\ 

Pol.  Indeed,  that 's  out  of  the  air.     [Asidel 
How  pregnant  sometimes  his  replies  are!  a 
happiness  that  often  madness  hits  on,  which 
reason  and  sanity  could  not  so  prosperously 
be  delivered  of.     I  will  leave  him,  and  sud- 
denly contrive  the  means  of  meeting  between  220 
him  and  my  daughter. — My  honorable  lord, 
I  will  most  humbly  take  my  leave  of  you. 
Hmn.  You  cannot,  sir,  take  from  me  any  thing 
that  I  will  more  willingly  part  withal:  ex- 
cept my  life,  except  my  life,  except  my  life. 
Pol.  Fare  you  well,  my  lord. 
Ham.  These  tedious  old  fools. 

Re-enter  Rosencrantz  and  Gidldenstern. 

Pol.  You  go  to  seek  the  I^ord  Hamlet ;  there  he  is. 
Ros.   [To  Polonius^  God  save  you,  sir! 

[Exit  Polonius. 

219-250,  249-281.  The  reading  of  Ff.;  omitted  in  Qq.— I.  G. 

•J33.  "take  my  leave  of  you";  such  is  the  folio  reading;  the  quartos 
give  the  latter  part  of  the  speech  thus:  "I  will  leave  him  and  my 
daughter. — My  lord,  I  will  take  my  leave  of  you." — In  the  next 
speech,  the  folio  has,  "except  my  life,  my  life."  Coleridge  says  of 
the  quarto  reading, — "This  repetition  strikes  me  as  mcst  admirable." 
— H.  X.  H. 

XX— 5  65 


Act  II.  Sc.  ii.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

Guil.  My  honored  lord!  230 

Ros.  My  most  dear  lord! 

Ham.  My  excellent  good  friends!  How  dost 
thou,  Guildenstern  ?  Ah,  Rosencrantz! 
Good  lads,  how  do  you  both? 

Ros.  As  the  indifferent  children  of  the  earth. 

Guil.  Happy,  in  that  we  are  not  over-happy ; 
On  Fortune's  cap  we  are  not  the  very  button. 

Ham.  Nor  the  soles  of  her  shoe? 

Ros.  Neither,  my  lord. 

Ham.  Then  you  live  about  her  waist,  or  in  the  240 
middle  of  her  favors  ? 

Cruil.  Faith,  her  privates  we. 

Ham.  In  the  secret  parts  of  Fortune?  O, 
most  true ;  she  is  a  strumpet.  What 's  the 
news  ? 

Ros.  None,  my  lord,  but  that  the  world's 
grown  honest. 

Ham.  Then  is  doomsday  near:  but  your  news 
is  not  true.     Let  me  question  more  in  par- 
ticular :  what  have  you,  my  good  friends,  de-  250 
served  at  the  hands  of  Fortune,  that  she 
sends  you  to  prison  hither? 

Guil.  Prison,  my  lord!  .^ 

Ham.  Denmark  's  a  prison,    (yj 

Ros.  Then  is  the  world  one. 

Ham.  A  goodly  one;  in  which  there  are  many 
confines,  wards  and  dungeons,  Denmark  be- 
ing one  o'  the  worst. 

Ros.  We  think  not  so,  my  lord. 

Ham.  Why,  then,  'tis  none  to  you ;  for  there  is  260 

66 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act.  Ii.  Sc.  ii. 

nothing  either  good  .or-  bad,  but  thinking 
makes  it  so :  to  me  it  is  a  prison. 

Ros.  Why,  then  your  ambition  makes  it  one; 
'tis  too  narrow  for  your  rniud. 

Ham.  O  God,  I  could  be  bounded  in  a  nut-shell 
and  count  myself  a  king  of  infinite  sjgajje, 
were  it  not  that  I  have  bad  dreams. 

Ckiil.  Which  dreams  indeed  are  ambition;  for         ',       ♦ 
the  very  substance  of  the  ambitious  is  merely 
the  shadow  of  a  dream.  270 

Ham.  A  dream  itself  is  but  a  shadow.  ' 

Ros.  Truly,  and  I  hold  ambition  of  so  airy  and 
light  a  quality  that  it  is  but  a  shadow's 
shadow. 

Ham.  Then  are  our  beggars  bodies,  and  our 
monarchs  and  outstretched  heroes  the  beg- 
gars' shadows.  Shall  we  to  the  court?  for, 
by  my  fay,  I  cannot  reason. 

^   .'  [We  '11  wait  upon  j^ou. 

Ham.  No  such  matter :  I  will  not  sort  you  with  280 
the  rest  of  my  servants ;  for,  to  speak  to  you 
like  an  honest  man,  I  am  most  dreadfully 
attended.     But,  in  the  beaten  way  of  friend-     A/Lajl-^ 
ship,  what  make  you  at  Elsinore? 

Ros.  To  visit  you,  my  lord;  no  other  occasion. 

275.  "Then  are  our  beggars  bodies"  etc.  If  the  ambitions  are 
shadows,  "beggars" — the  "antitypes  of  ambition" — are  substance,  and 
as  such  throw  shadow;  it  is  Hamlet's  caprice  to  identify  the  shad- 
owy ambitious  "monarchs  and  outstretch'd  heroes"  with  the  "beggars' 
shadows,"— a  caprice  which  he  impatiently  dismisses  the  next  mo- 
ment: "for,  by  my  fay,  I  cannot  reason." — C.  H.  H. 

282.  "dreadfully  attended";  by  his  "bad  dreams." — C.  H.  H. 

284.  "what  make  you";  what  do  vou. 

67 


/» 


Act  II.  Sc.  ii.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

Ham.  Beggar  that  I  am,  I  am  even  poor  in 
thanks;  bnt   I  thank  you:   and  sure,  dear 
i*riends,  my  thanks  are  too  dear  a  halfpenny. 
^Vere  you  not  sent  for?     Is  it  j^our  own  in- 
'cHning?    Is  it  a  free  visitation?    Come,  deal  290 
with  me;  come,  come;  nay,  speak, 
should  we  say,  my  lord? 


.hfHa?7i.  AVhy,  anj^  thing,  but  to  the  purpose. 
J*  You  were  sent  for;  and  there  is  a  kind  of 


confession  in  your  looks,  w^hich  your  modes- 


ff    Jf  ties  have  not  craft  enough  to  color:  I  know 

/   ^  the  good  king  and  queen  have  sent  for  you. 

Ros.  To  what  end,  my  lord? 

Ham.  That  you  must  teach  me.  But  let  me 
conjure  you,  bj^  the  rights  of  our  fellowship,  300 
by  the  consonancy  of  our  j^outh,  by  the  obli- 
gation of  our  ever-preserved  love,  and  bj'^ 
what  more  dear  a  better  proposer  could 
charge  you  withal,  be  even  and  direct  with 
me,  M'hether  you  were  sent  for,  or  no. 

Bos.   [ylsidc  to  Guil.l     What  say  you? 

Ham.  [Asidel    Nay  then,  I  have  an  eye  of 
you. — 
If  you  love  me,  hold  not  off. 

Guil.  INIy  lord,  we  were  sent  for.  310 

Ham.  I  will  tell  you  why;  so  shall  my  anticipa- 
tion prevent  your  discovery,  and  yoin*  se- 
crecy   to    the    king    and    queen    nioulFjio" 
feather.     I  have  of  late-^biir'wTierefore  I 

:?H8.  '7«o  dear  a  h<ilf}>cnnii";  I.  e.  at  a  Iialfpcniiy. — C.  II.  H. 
313.  "moult  no  featho-";  that  is,  not  rhan<ic  a  feather;  moult  being 
an  old  word  for  change;  applied  especially  to  birds  when  putting  on 

68 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act.  II.  Sc.  H. 

know  not — lost  all  my  mirth,  forgone  all 
custom  of  exercises;  and  indeed  it  goes  so 
heavily  with  my  disposition  that  this  goodly 
frame,  the  eartli,  seems  to  me  a  sterile  prom- 
ontory; this  most  excellent  canopy,  the  air, 
look  you,  this  brave  o'erhanging  firmament,  320 
this  majestical  roof  fretted  with  golden  fire, 
why,  it  appears  no  other  thing  to  me  than  a 
foul  and  pestilent  congregation  of  vapors. 
[What  a  piece  of  work  is  a  man!  how  noble 
in  reason!  how  infinite  in  faculty!  in  form 
and  moving  how  express  and  admirable!  in 
action  how  like  an  angel!  in  apprehension 
how  like  a  god !  the  beauty  of  the  world !  the 
paragon  of  animals !  And  yet,  to  me,  what  is 
this  quintessence  of  dust  ?  man  delights  not  330 
me;  no,  nor  woman  neither,  though  by  your 
smiling  you  seem  to  say  so. 

Ros.  My  lord,  there  was  no  such  stuff  in  my 
thoughts. 

Ham.  Why  did  you  laugh  then,  when  I  said 
'man  delights  not  me'  ? 

a  new  suit  of  clothes.  So  in  Bacon's  Naturall  Historie:  "Some 
birds  there  be,  that  upon  their  moulting  do  turn  colour;  as  robin- 
redbreasts,  after  their  moulting,  grow  red  again  by  degrees." — 
The  whole  passage  seems  to  mean,  "my  anticipation  shall  prevent 
your  discovering  to  me  the  purpose  of  your  visit,  and  so  your  promise 
of  secrecy  will  be  perfectly  kept." — H.  N.  H. 

320.  'o'erhanging  firviament" ;  so  the  quartos;  the  folio  omits  firma- 
ment, and  so  of  course  turns  o'erhanging  into  a  substantive.  It  may 
well  be  thought,  that  by  the  omission  the  language  becomes  more 
Shakespearean,  without  any  loss  of  eloquence.  But  the  passage,  as 
it  stands,  is  so  much  a  household  word,  that  it  seems  best  not  to 
change  it. — The  folio  also  has,  "appears  no  other  thing  to  me  than," 
instead  of,  "appeareth  nothing  to  me  but." — H.  N.  H. 

69 


Act  11.  Sc.  ii.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

Ros.  To  think,  my  lord,  if  you  delight  not  in 
man,  what  lenten  entertainment  the  players 
shall  receive  from  you :  we  coted  them  on  the 
way;  and  hither  are  they  coming,  to  offer  340 
you  service. 

Ham.  He  that  plays  the  king  shall  be  welcome ; 
his  majesty  shall  have  tribute  of  me;  the 
adventurous  knight  shall  use  his  foil  and  tar- 
get; the  lover  shall  not  sigh  gratis;  the  hu- 
morous man  shall  end  his  part  in  peace;  the 
clown  shall  make  those  laugh  whose  lungs 
are  tickle  o'  the  sere,  and  the  lady  shall  say 
her  mind  freely,  or  the  blank  verse  shall  halt 
for  't.     What  players  are  they  ?  350 

Ros.  Even  those  you  were  wont  to  take  such  de- 
light in,  the  tragedians  oftlie  city. 

Haul.  How  chances  it  they  travel?  their  resi-  . 
dence,  both  in  reputation  and  profit,  was  bet- 
ter both  ways.   h^i^yrlJLM^r^ 

Ros.  I  think  their  iiihibition  fiomes  by  the  means 
of  the  late  innovation.  IaAA'v^     I  ^^^"^ 

Ham.  Do  they  hold  the  same  estimation  they 
did  when  I  was  in  the  city?  are  they  so 
followed?  360 

Ros.  No,  indeed,  are  they  not. 

Ham.  How  comes  it?  do  they  grow  rusty? 

Ros.  Nay,  their  endeavor  keeps  in  the  wonted 

347-349.  "the  clown    .    .     .    sere,"  omitted  in  Qq. ;  vide  Glossary, 
"Tickle  o'  the  sere."— I.  G. 

356-357.  "/  think  their  inhibition  comes  by  the  means  of  the  late 
innovation";  vide  Preface. — I  G. 

862-389,  Omitted  in  Qq.— I.  G. 

70 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  li.  Sc.  ii. 

pace:  but  there  is,  sir,  an  eyrie  of  children, 
little  eyases,  that  cry  out  on  the  top  of  ques- 
tion and  are  most  tyrannically  clapped:^ 
for  't :  these  are  now  the  fashion,  and  so  be- 
rattle  the  common  stages — so  they  call  them 
— that  many  wearing  rapiers  are  afraid  of 
goose-quills,  and  dare  scarce  come  thither.  370 

Ham.  What,  are  they  children?  who  maintains 
'em  ?  how  are  they  escorted  ?  Will  they  pur- 
sue the  quality  no  longer  than  they  can  sing? 
will  they  not  say  afterwards,  if  they  should 
grow  themselves  to  common  players, — as  it 
is  most  like,  if  their  means  are  no  better, — 
their  writers  do  them  wrong,  to  make  them 
exclaim  against  their  own  succession? 

Ros.  Faith,  there  has  been  much  to  do  on  both 

364-378,  cp.:— 

"I  saw  the  children  of  Powles  last  night: 
And  troth  they  fleas'd  me  pretty,  pretty  well, 
The  apes,  in  time,  will  do  it  handsomely. 
— I  like  the  audience  that  frequenteth  there 
With  much  applause." 

Jack  Drum's  Entertainment   (1601). — I.  G. 

364.  "Aiery,"  from  eyren,  eggs,  properly  means  a  brood,  but  some- 
times a  nest. — Eyas  is  a  name  for  an  unfledged  hawk. — "Top  of 
question"  probably  means,  top  of  their  voice;  question  being  often 
used  for  speech. — The  allusion  is  to  the  children  of  St.  Paul's  and 
of  the  Revels,  whose  performing  of  plays  was  much  in  fashion  at 
the  time  this  play  was  written.  From  an  early  date,  the  choir-lioys 
of  St.  Paul's,  Westminster,  Windsor,  and  the  Chapel  Royal,  were 
engaged  in  such  performances,  and  sometimes  played  at  Court.  The 
complaint  here  is,  that  these  juveniles  so  abuse  "the  common  stages," 
that  is,  the  theaters,  as  to  deter  many  from  visiting  them. — H.  N.  H. 

36T.  "berattle":  abuse.— C.  H.  H.  ' 


71 


Act  II.  Sc.  ii.  TRAGEDY 

sides,  and  the  nation  holds  it  no  sin  to  farre  380 
them  to  controversy:  there  was  for  a  while 
no  money  bid  for  argument  unless  the  poet 
and  the  plaver  went  to  Qivffs  in  the  question. 

Ham.  Is 't  possible?  {fU^^^ 

Guil.  O,  there  has  been  much  throwing  about  of 
brains. 

Ham.  Do  the  boys  carry  it  away? 

Ros.  Aye,  that  they  do,  my  lord;  Hercules  and 
his  load  too. 

Ham.  It  is  not  very  strange;  for  my  uncle  is  390 
king  of  Denmark,  and  those  that  would 
make  mows  at  him  while  my  father  lived, 
give  twenty,  forty,  fifty,  a  hundred  ducats 
a-piece,  for  his  picture  in  little.  'Sblood, 
there  is  something  in  this  more  than  natural, 
if  philosophy  could  find  it  out. 

[Flourish  of  trainpets  within. 

Guil.  There  are  the  players. 

Havi.  Gentlemen,  you  are  welcome  to  Elsinorc. 
Your  hands,  come  then :  the  appurtenance  of 
welcome  is  fashion  and  ceremony :  let  me  '^^^ 
comply  with  you  in  this  garb,  lest  my  extent  A/ 
to  the  players,  which,  I  tell  you,  must  show       ^^ 
fairly  outwards,  should  more  appear  like  en- 
tertainment than  yours.     You  are  welcome: 
but  my  uncle- father  and  aunt-mother  are  de- 
ceived. 

Guil.  In  what,  my  dear  lord? 

Ham.  I  am  but  mad  north-north-west:   Avhen 

408.  "mad  norlh-nurth-icest";  just  touched  with  madness. — C.  II.  II. 


i<it 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  li.  Sc.  ii. 

the  wind  is  southerly  I  know  a  hawk  from  a 
handsaw.  410 

Re-enter  Polonius. 

Pol.  Well  be  with  you,  gentlemen! 

Ham.  Hark  you,  Guildenstern ;  and  you  too: 
at  each  ear  a  hearer :  that  great  baby  you  see 
there  is  not  yet  out  of  his  swaddling  clouts. 

lios.  Happily  he  's  the  second  time  come  to 
them;  for  they  say  an  old  man  is  twice  a 
child. 

Ham.  I  will  prophesy  he  comes  to  tell  me  of  the 
players;  mark  it.  You  saj^  right,  sir:  o' 
JNIonda}^  morning ;  'twas  so,  indeed.  420 

Pol.  My  lord,  I  have  news  to  tell  you. 

Ham.  My  lord,  I  have  news  to  tell  you.  When 
Roscius  was  an  actor  in  Rome, — 

Pol.  The  actors  are  come  hither,  my  lord. 

Ham.  Buz,  buz! 

Pol.  Upon  my  honor, — 

Ham.  Then  came  each  actor  on  his  ass, — 

Pol.  The  best  actors  in  the  world,  either  for 
tragedy,  comedy,  history,  pastoral,  pasto- 
ral-comical, historical-pastoral,  tragical-his-  430 
torical,  tragical-comical-historical-pastoral, 
scene  individable,  or  poem  unlimited:  Sen- 
eca cannot  be  too  heavy,  nor  Plautus  too 
light.  For  the  law  of  writ  and  the  liberty, 
these  are  the  only  men. 

Ham.  O  Jephthah,  judge  of  Israel,  what  a 
treasure  hadst  thou ! 

Pol.  ^^'hat  a  treasure  had  he,  my  lord? 

7y 


Act  II.  Sc.  ii.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

Ham.  Why, 

'One  fair  daughter,  and  no  more,  440 

The  which  he  loved  passing  well.' 
Pol.  [^Asidel  Still  on  my  daughter. 
Ham.  Am  I  not  i'  the  right,  old  Jephthah? 
Pol.  If  you  call  me  Jephthah,  my  lord,  I  have  a 

daughter  that  I  love  passing  well. 
Ham.  Nay,  that  follows  not. 
Pol.  What  follows,  then,  my  lord? 
Ham.  Why, 

'As  by  lot,  God  wot,' 
and  then  you  know,  ^  450 

'It  came  to  pass,  as  most  like  it  was,' — 
the  first  row  of  the  pious  chanson  ^vill  show 
you  more;  for  look,  where  my  abridgment 
comes. 

Enter  four  or  five  Players. 

You  are  welcome,  masters;  welcome,  all.     I 
am  glad  to  see  thee  well.     Welcome,  good 

440.  These  lines  are  from  an  old  ballad,  entitled  "Jephtha,  Judge 
of  Israel."  It  was  first  printed  in  Percy's  Beliques,  having  been 
"retrieved  from  utter  oblivion  by  a  lady,  who  wrote  it  down  from 
memory,  as  she  had  formerly  heard  it  sung  by  her  father."  A 
more  correct  copy  has  since  been  discovered,  and  reprinted  in 
Evans'  Old  Ballads,  1810;  where  the  first  stanza  runs  thus: 

"I  have  read  that  many  years  agoe, 
When  Jephtha,  judge  of  Israel, 
Had  one  fair  daughter  and  no  moe, 
W^hom  he  loved  passing  well; 
As  by  lot,  God  wot. 
It  came  to  passe,  most  like  it  was, 
Great  warrs  there  should  be, 
And  who  should  be  the  chiefe  but  he,  but  he." 

— H.  N.  H. 
74 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  ii.  Sc.  ii. 

friends.     O,  my  old  friend !     Why  thy  face  ^ 

is  valanced  since  I  saw  thee  last ;  comest  thou 
to  beard  me  in  Denmark?  What,  my  young 
lady  and  mistress !  By'r  lady,  your  ladyship  460 
is  nearer  to  heaven  than  when  I  saw  you 
last,  by  the  altitude  of  a  chopine.  Pray 
God,  your  voice,  like  a  piece  of  uncurrent 
gold,  be  not  cracked  within  the  ring.  Mas- 
ters, you  are  all  welcome.  We  '11  e'en  to  't 
like  French  falconers,  fly  at  any  thing  we 
see :  we  '11  have  a  speech  straight :  come,  give 
us  a  taste  of  your  quality;  come,  a  passion- 
ate speech. 
First  Play.  What  speech,  my  good  lord?  470 

Ham.  I  heard  thee  speak  me  a  speech  once,  but 
it  was  never  acted;  or,  if  it  was,  not  above 
once;  for  the  play,  I  remember,  pleased  not  ^j/-v/vA^ 
the  milhon ;  'twas  caviare  to  the  general :  but       --vnya-v^ 
it  was — as  I  received  it,  and  others,  whose  *-^  J^ 

judgments  in  such  matters  cried  in  the  top  of  A^*^ 
mine — an  excellent  play,  well  digested  in  the 
scenes,  set  down  with  as  much  modesty  as 
cunning.  I  remember,  one  said  there  were 
no  sallets  in  the  lines  to  make  the  matter  sav-  480 
ory,  nor  no  matter  in  the  phrase  that  might 
indict  the  author  of  affection;  but  called  it 
an  honest  method,  as  wholesome  as  sweet, 
and  by  very  much  more  handsome  than  fine. 
One  speech  in  it  I  chiefly  loved :  'twas 
Eneas'  tale  to  Dido;  and  thereabout  of  it 

466.  "French  falconers";  so  the  folio  and  the  first  quarto;  the  other 
quartos  have  friendly  instead  of  French. — H.  N.  H. 
486.  ".Eneas'  tale  to  Dido";  one  cannot  but  believe  that  Hamlet's 

75 


Act  II.  Sc.  ii.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

especially,    where    he    speaks    of    Priam's 
slaughter:  if  it  live  in  your  memory,  begin 
at  this  line;  let  me  see,  let  me  see; 
'The    rugged    Pyrrhus,    like    th'    Hyrcanian 
beast,'—  490 

It  is  not  so:  it  begins  with  'Pyrrhus.' 
'The  rugged  Pyrrhus,  he  whose  sable  arms, 
Black  as  his  purpose,  did  the  night  resemble 
When  he  lay  couched  in  the  ominous  horse, 

criticism  of  the  play  is  throughout  ironical,  aiul  that  the  speeches 
(juoted  are  hurlesque.  "The  fancy  that  a  b^irlesque  was  intended," 
\\  rote  Coleridge,  "sinks  below  criticism;  the  lines,  as  epic  narrative, 
are  superb";  perhaps  he  would  have  changed  his  mind,  and  would 
have  recognized  them  as  mere  parody,  if  he  had  read  Dido,  Queen 
of  Carthage,  a  play  left  incomplete  by  Marlowe  and  finished  by 
Nash  (cj).  e.  g.  Act  II.  Sc.  i.,  which  seems  to  be  the  very  passage 
Shaiiespeare  had  in  view). — I.  G. 

492.  "The  rugged  Pyrrhus" ;  Schlegel  observes,  that  "this  speech 
must  not  be  judged  bj'^  itself,  but  in  connexion  with  the  place  where 
it  is  introduced.  To  distinj.vuish  it  as  dramatic  poetry  in  the  play 
itself,  it  was  necessary  that  it  shoidd  rise  above  the  dignifietl  poetry 
of  that  in  the  same  proportion  that  the  theatrical  elevation  does 
above  simple  nature.  Hence  Shakespeare  has  composed  the  play 
in  Hamlet  altogether  in  sententious  rhymes,  full  of  antithesis.  But 
tliis  solenni  and  measured  tone  did  not  suit  a  speech  in  which  vio- 
lent emotion  ought  to  prevail;  and  the  Poet  had  no  other  expedient 
tiian  tlie  one  of  which  he  made  use,  overcharging  the  pathos."— 
H.  N.  H. 

To  the  remarks  of  Schlegel  on  this  speech  should  be  added 
tiiose  of  Coleridge,  as  the  two  appear  to  have  been  a  coincidence 
of  thought,  and  not  a  borrowing  either  way:  "This  admiralile 
substitution  of  the  epic  for  the  dramatic,  giving  such  reality  to  the 
dramatic  diction  of  Shakespeare's  own  dialogue,  and  authorized, 
too,  by  the  *actiial  style  of  the  tragedies  before  his  time,  is  well 
worthy  of  notice.  The  fancy,  that  a  burlesque  was  intended,  sinks 
below  criticism:  the  lines,  as  epic  narrative,  are  superb. — In  the 
thoughts,  and  even  in  the  separate  parts  of  the  diction,  this  descrip- 
tion is  highly  poetical:  in  truth,  taken  by  itself,  that  is  its  fault, 
that  it  is  too  poetical ! — the  language  of  lyric  vehemence  and  epic 
j)omp,  and  not  of  the  drama.  But  if  Shakespeare  had  made  the 
diction  truly  dramatic,  where  wovdd  have  been  the  contrast  between 
Hamlet  and"  the  play  in  Hamlet  ?"--H.  N.  H. 

76 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  II.  Sc.  ii. 

Hath   now   this   dread   and   black   complexion 

smear'd 
.    With  heraldry  more  dismal :  head  to  foot 
Now  is  he  total  gules;  horridly  trick'd 
With  the  blood  of  fathers,  mothers,  daughters, 

sons. 
Baked  and  impasted  with  the  parching  streets 
That  lend  a  tj^rannous  and  a  damned  light    500 
To  their  lord's  murder:  roasted  in  wrath  and 

fire. 
And  thus  o'er-sized  with  coagulate  gore, 
With  eyes  like  carbuncles,  the  hellish  Pyrrhus 
Old  grandsire  Priam  seeks.' 
So,  proceed  you. 
Pol.  'Fore   God,   my  lord,   well   spoken,   with 

good  accent  and  good  discretion. 
First  Play.  'Anon  he  finds Jiim 

Striking  too  short  at  Greeks ;  his  antique  sword, 
Rebellious  to  his  arm,  lies  where  it  falls, 
Repugnant  to  command :  unequal  match'd,  510 
Pyrrhus  at  Pi*iam  drives;  in  rage  strikes  wide; 
But  with  the  whiff  and  wind  of  his  fell  sword 
The    unnerved    father    falls.      Then    senseless 

Ilium, 
Seeming  to  feel  this  blow,  witli  flaming  top 
Stoops  to  his  base,  and  with  a  hideous  crash 
Takes  prisoner  Pyrrhus'  ear:  for,  lo!  his  sword, 
Which  was  declining  on  the  milky  head 
Of  reverend  Priam,  seem'd  i'  the  air  to  stick: 

504.  Omitted  in  Ff.— I.  G. 

513.  "Then  senseless  Ilium";  545,  moblcd     .      .      ,     good"  omitted 
in  Qq.— I.  G. 

77 


Act  II.  Sc.  ii.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

So,  as  a  painted  tyrant,  Pyrrhus  stood. 
And  like  a  neutral  to  liis  will  and  matter,    520 
Did  nothing. 

But  as  we  often  see,  against  some  storm, 
A  silence  in  the  heavens,  the  rack  stand  still, 
The  bold  winds  speechless  and  the  orb  below 
As  hush  as  death,  anon  the  dreadful  thunder 
Doth  rend  the  region,  so  after  Pyrrhus'  pause 
Aroused  vengeance  sets  him  new  a- work ; 
And  never  did  the  Cyclops'  hammers  fall 
On  Mars's  armor,  forged  for  proof  eterne, 
With  less  remorse  than  Pyrrhus'  bleeding  swoird 
Now  falls  on  Priam.  531 

Out,  out,  thou  strumpet,  Fortune!     All  you 

gods. 
In  general  synod  take  away  her  power, 
Break  all  the  spokes  and  felHes  from  her  wheel, 
And  bowl  the  round  nave  down  the  hill  of 

heaven 
As  low  as  to  the  fiends!' 

Pol.  This  is  too  long. 

Ham.  It  shall  to  the  barber's,  with  your  beard. 
Prithee,  say  on:  he  's  for  a  jig  or  a  tale  of 
bawdry,    or    he    sleeps :    saj?^    on :    come    to  540 
Hecuba. 

First  Play.  'But  who,  O,  who  had  seen  the 
mobled  queen — ' 

Ham.  'The  mobled  queen?' 

Pol.  That 's  good ;  'mobled  queen'  is  good. 

First  Play.  'Run  barefoot  up  and  down,  threaten- 
ing the  flames 
With  bisson  rheum ;  a  clout  upon  that  head 

78 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  ii.  Sc.  ii. 

Where  late  the  diadem  stood ;  and  for  a  robe, 
About  her  lank  and  all  o'er-teemed  loins,         550 
A  blanket,  in  the  alarm  of  fear  caught  up : 
Who   this    had   seen,    with    tongue   in   venom 

steep'd 
'Gainst  Fortune's  state  would  treason  have  pro- 
nounced : 
But  if  the  gods  themselves  did  see  her  then, 
When  she  saw  Pyrrhus  make  malicious  sport 
In  mincing  with  his  sword  her  husband's  limbs, 
The  instant  burst  of  clamor  that  she  made. 
Unless  things  mortal  move  them  not  at  all, 
Would  have  made  milch  the  burning  eyes  of 

heaven 
And  passion  in  the  gods.'  560 

Pol.  Look,  whether  he  has  not  turned  his  color 
and  has  tears  in  's  eyes.  Prithee,  no  more. 
Ham.  'Tis  well;  I  '11  have  thee  speak  out  the 
rest  of  this  soon.  Good  my  lord,  will  you 
see  the  players  well  bestowed?  Do  you  hear, 
let  them  be  well  used,  for  they  are  the  ab- 
stract and  brief  chronicles  of  the  time :  after 
your  death  you  were  better  have  a  bad  epi- 
taph than  their  ill  report  while  you  live. 
Pol.  My  lord,  I  will  use  them  according  to  their  570 
desert. 

559.  "burning  eyes  of  heaven";  by  a  hardy  poetical  license  this 
expression  means,  "Would  have  filled  with  tears  the  burning  eye  of 
heaven."  We  have  "Lemosus,  miVc/i -hearted,"  in  Huloet's  and  Lyttle- 
ton's  Dictionaries.  It  is  remarkable  that,  in  old  Italian,  lattuoso  is 
used  for  Iwttuoso,  in  the  same  metaphorical  manner.— H.  N.  H. 

561.  "whether";  Malone  emendation;  Qq.,  Ff.,  "where"  (i.  e. 
"wh'ere  =  whether"). — I.  G. 

79 


Act  II.  Sc.  ii.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET, 

Ham.  God's  body  kins,  man,  much  better:  use 
every  man  after  his  desert,  and  who  shall 
'scape  whipping  ?  Use  them  after  your  own 
honor  and  dignity :  the  less  they  deserve,  the 
more  merit  is  in  your  bounty.  Take  them 
in. 

Pol.  Come,  sirs. 

Ham.  Follow  him,  friends:  we'll  hear  a  play 
to-morrow,     [^.r/i   Polonius   with   all   the  •''80 
Players  but  the  First.]     Dost  thou  hear  me, 
old   friend;  can  you   play  the   Murder  of 
Gonzago? 

First  Play.  Aye,  my  lord. 

Ham.  We  '11  ha 't  to-morrow  night.  You 
could,  for  a  need,  study  a  speech  of  some 
dozen  or  sixteen  lines,  which  I  would  set 
down  and  insert  in  't,  could  you  not  ? 

First  Play.  Aye,  my  lord. 

Ham.  Very  well.     Follow  that  lord;  and  look  590 
you  mock  him  not.     [E^vit  F'irst  Player.] 
My  good  friends,  I  '11  leave  you  till  night : 
you  are  welcome  to  Elsinore. 

Ros.  Good  my  lord ! 

Ham.  Aye,  so,  God  be  wi'  ye!  [Ecceunt  Bosen- 

crantz  and  Guildenstern.]    Now  I  am  alone. 

586.  "a  speech  of  some  dozen  or  sixteen  lines";  there  was  much 
throwing  ahout  of  brains  in  the  attempt  to  find  these  lines  in  the 
plaj^-scene  in  Act  TIT.  Sc.  ii.  "The  discussion,"  as  Furness  aptly 
jnits  it,  "is  a  tribute  to  Shakespeare's  consummate  art,"  and  the 
view  of  this  scholar  commends  itself — viz.,  that  "in  order  to  give 
an  air  of  probability  to  what  everyone  would  feel  [otherwise] 
highlj'  improbable,  Shakespeare  represents  Hamlet  as  adapting  an 
old  play  to  his  present  needs  by  inserting  in  it  some  pointed  lines." 
—I.  G. 

80 


nilNCE  OF  DEX^IARK  Act  ii.  Sc.  ii. 

O,  what  a  rogue  and  peasant  slave  am  I! 

Is  it  not  monstrous  that  this  player  here, 

But  in  a  fiction,  in  a  dream  of  passion, 

Could  force  his  soul  so  to  his  own  conceit      600 

That  from  her  working  all  his  visage  wann'd; 

Tears  in  his  eyes,  distraction  in  's  aspect, 

A  broken  voice,  and  his  whole  function  suiting 

With  forms  to  his  conceit?  and  all  for  nothing  I 

For  Hecuba! 

What 's  Hecuba  to  him,  or  he  to  Hecuba, 

That  he  should  weep  for  her?     What  would  he 

do, 
Had  he  the  motive  and  the  cue  for  passion 
That  I  have?     He  would  drown  the  stage  with 

tears 
And  cleave  the  general  air  with  horrid  speech, 
Make  mad  the  guilty  and  appal  the  free,         611 
Confound  the  ignorant,  and  amaze  indeed 
The  very  faculties  of  eyes  and  ears. 
Yet  I, 

A  dull  and  muddy-mettled  rascal,  peak, 
Like  John-a-dreams,  unpregnant  of  my  cause, 
And  can  say  nothing;  no,  not  for  a  king, 
Upon  whose  property  and  most  dear  life 
A  damn'd  defeat  was  made.     Am  I  a  coward? 
Who  calls  me  villain  ?  breaks  my  pate  across  ?  620 
Plucks  off  my  beard,  and  blows  it  in  my  face? 
Tweaks  me  by  the  nose?  gives  me  the  lie  i'  the 

throat. 
As  deep  as  to  the  lungs?  who  does  me  this? 
Ha! 
'S wounds,  I  should  take  it:  for  it  cannot  be 

XX-6  51 


Act  II.  Sc.  ii.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

But  I  am  pigeon-liver'd  and  lack  gall 
To  make  oppression  bitter,  or  ere  this 
I  should  have  fatted  all  the  region  kites 
With  this  slave's  offal:  bloody,  bawdy  villain! 
Remorseless,  treacherous,  lecherous,  kindless  vil- 
lain! 630 
O,  vengeance! 

Why,  what  an  ass  am  1 1     This  is  most  brave, 
That  I,  the  son  of  a  dear  father  murder'd, 
Prompted  to  my  revenge  by  heaven  and  hell. 
Must,  like  a  whore,  unpack  my  heart  with  words, 
And  fall  a-cursing,  like  a  very  drab, 
A  scullion ! 
Fie  upon  't !  fob !     About,  my  brain !     Hum,  I 

have  heard 
That  guilty  creatures,  sitting  at  a  play, 

627.  "oppression  bitter";  of  course  the  meaning  is,  "lack  gall  to 
make  me  feel  the  bitterness  of  oppression."  There  were  no  need  of 
saying  this,  but  that  Collier,  on  the  strength  of  his  second  folio, 
M'ould  read  transgression,  and  Singer,  on  the  strength  of  nothing, 
aggression.  Dvce  justly  pronounces  the  alteration  "nothing  less  than 
villainous.'— H.  N.  H. 

632.  "dear  father  murdered" ;  thus  the  folio;  some  copies  of  the 
undated  quarto,  and  the  quarto  of  1611,  read,  "the  son  of  a  dear 
father  murder'd"  The  quartos  of  1604  and  1605  are  without 
father;  and  that  of  1603  reads,  "the  son  of  my  dear  father."  There 
can  be  no  question  that  the  reading  we  have  adopted,  besides  having 
the  most  authority,  is  much  the  more  beautiful  and  expressive, 
though  modern  editors  commonly  take  the  other. — The  words,  "O, 
vengeance !"  are  found  only  in  the  folio. — H.  N.  H. 

638:— 

"Hum,  J  have  heard 
That   guilty   creatures,  sitting   at   a  play,"  &c., 

vide  Heywood's  Apology  for  Actors,  where  a  number  of  these  stories 
are  collected;  perhaps,  however,  Shakespeare  had  in  mind  the  plot 
of  A  Warning  for  Faire  Women,  a  play  on  this  theme  published  in 
1599,  referring  to  a  ccmse  ciUbre  which  befell  at  Lynn  in  Norfolk. 
—I.  G. 

82 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  ii.  Sc.  ii. 

Have  by  the  very  cunning  of  the  scene         640 
Been  stinick  so  to  the  soul  that  presently 
They  have  proclaim'd  their  malefactions; 
For  murder,  though  it  have  no  tongue,   will 

speak 
With  most  miraculous  organ.     I  '11  have  these 

players 
Play  something  hke  the  murder  of  my  father 
Before  mine  uncle:  I  '11  observe  his  looks; 
I  '11  tent  him  to  the  quick :  if  he  but  blench, 
I  know  my  course.     The  spirit  that  I  have  seen 
May  be  the  devil ;  and  the  devil  hath  power 
To  assume  a  pleasing  shape ;  yea,  and  perhaps 
Out  of  my  weakness  and  my  melancholy.     651 
As  he  is  very  potent  with  such  spirits. 
Abuses  me  to  damn  me.     I  '11  have  grounds 
More  relative  than  this.     The  play  's  the  thing 
Wherein  I  '11  catch  the  conscience  of  the  king. 

lEcdt. 


88 


Act  III.  Sc.  i.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 


ACT  THIRD 

Scene  I 

A  room,  in  the  castle. 

Enter  King,  Queen,  Folonius,  Ophelia,  Rosen- 
crantz,  and  Giiildenstern. 

King.  And  can  you,  by  no  drift  of  circumstance, 
Get  from  him  why  he  puts  on  this  confusion, 
Grating  so  harshly  all  his  days  of  quiet 
With  turbulent  and  dangerous  lunacy? 

Ros.  He  does  confess  he  feels  himself  distracted, 
But  from  what  cause  he  will  by  no  means  speak. 

Guil.  Nor  do  we  find  him  forward  to  be  sounded; 
But,  with  a  crafty  madness,  keeps  aloof, 
When  we  would  bring  him  on  to  some  confes- 
sion 
Of  his  true  state. 

Queen.  Did  he  receive  you  well?     10 

Ros.  Most  like  a  gentleman. 

Guil.  But  with  much  forcing  of  his  disposition. 

Ros.  Niggard  of  question,  but  of  our  demands 
Most  free  in  his  reply. 

13-14.  "Niggard  of  question,  but  of  our  own  demands  most  free"; 
Hanmer,  "Most  free  of  our  question,  but  to  our  demands  most  nig- 
gard"; Warburton,  "Most  free  of  question,  but  of  our  demands  most 
niggard";  Collier  MS.,  "niggard  of  our  question,  but  to  our  demands 
most  free." — I.  G. 

84 


PRIXCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  III.  Sc.  i. 

Queen.  Did  you  assay  him 

To  anj^  pastime? 

Ros.  Madam,  it  so  fell  out  that  certain  players 
We  o'er-raught  on  the  way:  of  these  we  told 

him, 
And  there  did  seem  in  him  a  kind  of  joy 
To  hear  of  it :  they  are  about  the  court, 
And,  as  I  think,  they  have  already  order        20 
This  night  to  play  before  him. 

Pol.  'Tis  most  true : 

And  he  beseech'd  me  to  entreat  your  majesties 
To  hear  and  see  the  matter. 

King.  With  all  my  heart ;  and  it  doth  much  content 
me 
To  hear  him  so  inclined. 
Good  gentlemen,  give  him  a  further  edge, 
And  drive  his  purpose  on  to  these  delights. 

Ros.  We  shall,  my  lord. 

[Exeunt  Rosencrantz  and  Guildenstcrn. 

King.  Sweet  Gertrude,  leave  us  too; 

For  we  have  closely  sent  for  Hamlet  hither, 
That  he,  as  'twere  by  accident,  may  here         30 
Affront  Ophelia: 

Her  father  and  myself,  lawful  espials, 
Will  so  bestow  ourselves  that,  seeing  unseen, 
We  may  of  their  encounter  frankly  judge, 
And  gather  by  him,  as  he  is  behaved. 
If  't  be  the  affliction  of  his  love  or  no  y 

That  thus  he  suffers  for.  \ , 

Queen.  I  shall  obey  you : 

And  for  your  part,  Ophelia,  I  do  wish 
That  your  good  beauties  be  the  happy  cause 

85 


Act  III.  Sc.  i.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

Of  Hamlet's  wildness :  so  shall  I  hope  your  vh'- 
tues  40 

Will  bring  him  to  his  wonted  way  again, 
To  both  your  honors. 
Oph.  Madam,  I  wish  it  may.     [Exit  Queen. 

Pol.  Ophelia,  walk  you  here.     Gracious,  so  please 
you. 
We  will  bestow  ourselves.     [To  Ophelia.^  Read 

on  this  book ; 
That  show  of  such  an  exercise  may  color 
Your  loneliness.    We  are  oft  to  blame  in  this, — 
'Tis   too   much   proved — that   with   devotion's 

visage 
And  pious  action  we  do  sugar  o'er 
The  devil  himself. 
King.  [Aside~\     O,  'tis  too  true! 

How  smart  a  lash  that  speech  doth  give  my  con- 
science !  50 
The  harlot's  cheek,  beautied  with  plastering  art. 
Is  not  more  ugly  to  the  thing  that  helps  it 
Than  is  my  deed  to  my  most  painted  word : 
O  heavy  burthen!                     -j<.dUM^r^ 

Pol.  I  hear  him  coming :  let 's  withdraw,  my  lord. 

[Exeunt  King  and  Polonius. 

Enter  Hamlet. 

Ham.  To  be,  or  not  to  be :  that  is  the  question : 
Whether  'tis  nobler  in  the  mind  to  suffer 
The  slings  and  arrows  of  outrageous  fortune, 
Or  to  take  arms  against  a  sea  of  troubles, 

59.  "to  take  arms  against  a  sea  of  troubles"  &c.;  the  alleged  con- 

86 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  in.  Sc.  i. 

And  by  opposing  end  them.     To  die:  to  sleep; 
No  more ;  and  by  a  sleep  to  say  we  end  61 

The  heart-ache,  and  th<"  thousand  natural  shocks 
That  flesh  is  heir  to,  'tis  a  consummation 
Devoutly  to  be  wish'd.     To  die,  to  sleep ; 
To  sleep :  perchance  to  dream :  aye,  there  's  the 

rub; 
For  in  that  sleep  of  death  what  dreams  may 

come, 
When  we  have  shuffled  off  this  mortal  coil. 
Must  give  us  pause :  there  's  the  respect 
That  makes  calamity  of  so  long  life{^ 
For  who  would  bear  the  whips  and  scorns  of 
time,  70 

The  oppressor's  wrong,  the  proud  man's  con- 
tumely. 
The  pangs  of  despised  love,  the  law's  delay. 
The  insolence  of  office,  and  the  spurns 
That  patient  merit  of  the  unworthy  takes. 
When  he  himself  Height  his  quietus  make  jj,.aa>^' 
With  a  bare  bodkin?  who  would  fardels  Bear, 
To  grunt  and  sweat  under  a  weary  life, 
But  that  the  dread  of  something  after  death, 
The  undiscover'd  country  from  whose  bourn 
No  traveler  returns,  puzzles  the  will,  80 

fusion  of  metaphors  in  this  passage  was  due  to  the  commentator's 
ignorance,  not  to  Shakespeare's;  vide  Glossary,  "take  arms." — I.  G. 
79,  80:— 

"The  undiscovered  country  from  whose  bourn 
No  traveler  returns." 

In  Catullus'  Elegy  on  a  Sparrow,  occur  the  words: — 

"Qui  nunc  it  per  iter  tenehricoswm 
Illuc  unde  negant  redire  qu^nqtiam."—!,  G. 
87 


■C- 


Act  III.  Sc.  i.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

Aiid  makes  us  rather  bear  those  ills  we  hav^e 

Than  fly  to  others  that  we  know  not  of? 

Thus  cohscience  does  make  cowards  of  us  all, 

,And  thus  the  native  hue  of  resolution 

Is  sicklied  o'er  with  the  pale  cast  of  thought, 
J  And  enterprises  of  great  pitch  and  moment 

'With  this  regard  their  currents  turn  awry 
,  And  lose  the  name  of  action.     Soft  you  now! 

The  fair  Ophelia!     Nymph,  in  thy  orisons 

Be  all  my  sins  remember 'd. 
Oph.  Good  my  lord,       PO 

How  does  your  honor  for  this  many  a  day? 
Ham.  I  humbly  thank  you :  well,  well,  well. 
Oph.  My  lord,  I  have  remembrances  of  yours, 

That  I  have  longed  to  re-deliver ; 

I  pray  you,  now  receive  them. 
Ham.  No,  not  I ; 

I  never  gave  you  aught. 
Oph.  My  honor'd  lord,  vou  know  right  well  you 
did; 

And  with  them  words  of  so  sweet  breath  com- 
posed 

83.  "conscience";  speculative  reflection. — C.  H.  H. 

89.  "Be  all  my  sins  remevibered" ;  "This  is  a  touch  of  nature. 
Hamlet,  at  the  sight  of  0])helia,  docs  not  immediately  recollect  that 
he  is  to  personate  madness,  but  makes  an  address  grave  and  solemn, 
such  as  the  foregoing  meditation  excited  in  his  thoughts"  (Johnson). 
— H.  N.  H. 

92,  "well,  well,  well";  thus  the  folio;  the  quartos  have  well  but 
once.  The  repetition  seems  very  apt  and  forcible,  as  suggesting  the 
opposite  of  what  the  word  means. — H.  N.  H. 

97.  "you  know";  the  quartos  have  "you  know"  instead  of  "I 
know."  We  scarce  know  which  to  prefer;  but,  on  the  whole,  the 
folio  reading  seems  to  have  more  of  delicacy,  and  at  least  equal 
feeling.— H.  N.  H. 

88 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  ill.  Sc.  i. 

As  made  the  things  more  rich:  their  perfume 
lost, 

Take  these  again;  for  to  the  noble  mind  3*H) 

Rich  gifts  wax  poor  when  givers  prove  unkind. 

There,  my  lord. 
Ham.  Ha,  ha!  are  you  honest?  ^ ^r!^^^^^^-*?' 

Oph.  My  lord?  f 

Ham.  Aj'c  you  fair? 
Oph.  What  means  your  lordship? 
Ham.  That  if  you  be  honest  and  fair,  your  hon 

esty    should   admit   no    discourse    to    your 

beauty. 
Oph.  Could  beauty,  my  lord,  have  better  com-  HO 

merce  than  with  honesty? 
Ham.  Aye,  truly ;  for  the  power  of  beauty  will 

sooner  transform  honesty  from  what  it  is  to  a 

bawd  than  the  force  of  honesty  can  trans- 

103.  "are  you  honest?";  "Here  it  is  evident  that  the  penetrating 
Hamlet  perceives,  from  the  strange  and  forced  manner  of  Ophelia, 
that  the  sweet  girl  was  not  acting  a  part  of  her  own,  but  was  a 
decoy;  and  his  after  speeches  are  not  so  much  directed  to  her  as 
to  the  listeners  and  spies.  Such  a  discovery  in  a  mood  so  anxious 
and  irritable  accounts  for  a  certain  harshness  in  him; — and  yet  a 
wild  up-working  of  love,  sporting  with  opposites  in  a  wilful  self- 
tormenting  strain  of  irony,  is  perceptible  throughout.  "I  did  love 
you  once,"— "I  loved  you  not": — and  particularly  in  his  enumeration 
of  the  faults  of  the  sex  from  which  Ophelia  is  so  free,  that  the  mere 
freedom  therefrom  constitutes  her  character.  Note  Shakespeare's 
charm  of  composing  the  female  character  by  absence  of  characters, 
that  is,  marks  and  out-juttings"  (Coleridge). — H.  N.  H. 

108.  "your  honesty  should  admit";  that  is,  "your  honesty  should 
not  admit  your  beauty  to  any  discourse  with  it." — The  quartos  have 
merely  you  instead  of  your  honesty. — In  the  next  speech,  the  folio 
substitutes  your  for  with. — It  should  be  noted,  that  in  these  speeches 
Hamlet  refers,  not  to  Ophelia  personally,  but  to  the  sex  in  general. 
So,  especially,  when  he  says,  "I  have  heard  of  your  paintings  too," 
he  does  not  mean  that  Ophelia  paints,  but  that  the  use  of  paintings 
is  common  with  her  sex. — H.  X.  H. 

89 


Act  III.  Sc.  i.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

late  beauty  into  his  likeness:  this  was  some- 
time a  paradox,  but  now  the  time  gives  it 
proof.     I  did  love  you  once. 

Oph.  Indeed,  my  lord,  you  made  me  believe  so. 

Ham.  You  should  not  have  believed  me;  for 
virtue  cannot  so  inoculate  our  old  stock,  but  120 
we  shall  relish  of  it :  I  loved  you  not. 

Oph.  I  was  the  more  deceived. 

Ham.  Get  thee  to  a  nunnery :  why  wouldst  thou 
be  a  breeder  of  sinners  ?  I  am  myself  indif- 
ferent honest;  but  yet  I  could  accuse  me  of 
such  things  that  it  were  better  my  mother 
had  not  borne  me :  I  am  very  proud,  revenge- 
ful, ambitious;  with  more  offenses  at  my 
beck  than  I  have  thoughts  to  put  them  in, 
imagination  to  give  them  shape,  or  time  to  130 
act  them  in.  What  should  such  fellows  as 
I  do  crawling  between  heaven  and  earth! 
We  are  arrant  knaves  all ;  beHeve  none  of  us. 
Go  thy  w  ays  to  a  nunnery.  Where  's  your 
father  ? 

Oph.  At  home,  my  lord. 

Ham.  Let  the  doors  be  shut  upon  him,  that  he 
may  play  the  fool  no  where  but  in  's  own 
house.     Farewell. 

Oph.  O,  help  him,  you  sweet  heavens!  140 

Ham.  If  thou  dost  marry,  I  '11  give  thee  this 
plague  for  thy  dowry:  be  thou  as  chaste  as 
ice,  as  pure  as  snow,  thou  shalt  not  escape 
calumny.  Get  thee  to  a  nunnery,  go :  fare- 
well. Or,  if  thou  w41t  needs  marry,  many  a 
fool;  for  wise  men  know  well  enough  what 

90 


PRINCE  OF  DEN:MARK  Act  ill.  Sc.  i. 

monsters  you  make  of  them.     To  a  nunnery, 
go;  and  quickly  too.     Farewell. 

Opli.  O  heavenly  powers,  restore  him! 

Ham.  I  have  heard  of  your  paintings  too,  well  150 
enough;  God  hath  given  you  one  face,  and 
you  make  yourselves  another:  you  jig,  you 
amble,  and  you  lisp,  and  nick-name  God's 
creatures,  and  make  your  wantonness  your 
ignorance.  Go  to,  I  '11  no  more  on  't ;  it 
hath  made  me  mad.  1  say,  we  will  have  no 
more  marriages:  those  that  are  married  al- 
ready, all  but  one,  shall  live;  the  rest  shall 
keep  as  they  are.     To  a  nunnery,  go.       [Exit. 

Oph.  O,  what  a  noble  mind  is  here  o'erthrown !  160 
The  courtier^,  soldier's,  scholar's,  eye,  tongue, 

The  expectancy  and  rose  of  the  fair  state, 
^The  glass  of  fashion  and  the  mould  of  form, 
'The  observed  of  all  observers,  quite,  quite  down ! 
And  I,  of  ladies  most  deject  and  wretched. 
That  suck'd  the  honey  of  his  music  vows, 
Now  see  that  noble  and  most  sovereign  reason, 
Like  sweet  bells  jangled,  out  of  tune  and  harsh; 
That  unmatch'd  form  and  feature  of  blown 
youth 

150.  "paintings";  so  (Q.  1)  Qq.;  F.  1,  "pratlings";  Ff.  2,  3,  4, 
"pratUng";  Pope,  "painting" ;  Macdonald  conj.  "prancings." — I.  G. 

158.  "all  but  one";  "Observe  this  dallying  with  the  inward  purpose, 
characteristic  of  one  who  had  not  brought  his  mind  to  the  steady 
acting-point.  He  would  fain  sting  the  uncle's  mind; — but  to  stab 
his  body! — Tlie  soliloquy  of  Ophelia,  which  follows,  is  the  perfection 
of  love, — so  exquisitely  unselfish!"  (Coleridge). — H.  N.  H. 

164.  "The  observed  of  all  observers";  the  object  of  all  men's  courtly 
deference. — C.  H.  H. 

91 


Act  III.  Sc.  i.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

Blasted  with  ecstasy :  O,  woe  is  me,  170 

To  have  seen  what  I  liave  seen,  see  what  I  see! 

Re-enter  King  and  Polonius. 

King.  Love!  his  affections  do  not  that  way  tend; 
\       Nor  what  he  spake,  though  it  lack'd  form  a 
Httle, 
"^^J^Vas  not  Hke  madness.     There  's  something  in 
his  soul 
O'er  which  his  melancholy  sits  on  hrood. 
And  I  do  doubt  the  hatch  and  the  disclose 
Will  be  some  danger :  which  for  to  prevent, 
I  have  in  quick  determination 
Thus  set  it  down : — he  shall  with  speed  to  Eng- 
land, 
For  the  demand  of  our  neglected  tribute :      180 
Haply  the  seas  and  countries  different 
AVith  variable  objects  shall  expel 
This  something-settled  matter  in  his  heart, 
Whereon  his  brains  still  beating  puts  liim  thus 
From   fashion   of  himself.     What  think  you 
on't? 
Pol.  It  shall  do  well :  but  yet  do  I  believe 

The  origin  and  commencement  of  his  grief 
Sprung    from    neglected    love.      How    now, 
Ophelia!  189 

You  need  not  tell  us  what  Lord  Hamlet  said ; 
We  heard  it  all.     My  lord,  do  as  you  please ; 
But,  if  you  hold  it  fit,  after  the  plaj% 
Let  his  queen  mother  all  alone  entreat  him 
To  show  his  grief:  let  her  be  round  with  him ; 
And  I  '11  be  placed,  so  please  you,  in  the  ear 

92 


PRINCE  OF  DEXMARK  Act  ni.  Sc.  ii. 

Of  all  their  conference.     If  she  find  him  not, 
To  England  send  him,  or  confine  him  where 
Your  wisdom  best  shall  think. 
King.  It  shall  be  so : 

Madness  in  great  ones  must  not  unwatch'd  go. 

[Exeunt. 


Scene  II 

V      A  hall  in  the  castle. 

Enter  Hamlet  and  Players. 

^  Ham.  Speak  the  speech,  I  pray  you,  as  I  pro- 
nounced it  to  you,  trippingly  on  the  tongue : 
but  if  you  mouth  ft,  as  many  of  your  play- 
ers do,  I  had  as  lief  the  town-crier  spoke  my 
lines.  Nor  do  not  saw  the  air  too  much  with 
your  hand,  thus;  but  use  all  gently:  for  in 
the  very  torrent,  tempest,  and,  as  I  may  say, 
whirlwind  of  your  passion,  you  must  acquire 
and  beget  a  temperance  that  may  give  it 
smoothness.  O,  it  offends  me  to  the  soul  to  10 
hear  a  robustious  periwig-pated  fellow  tear 
a  passion  to  tatters,  to  very  rags,  to  split 
the  ears  of  the  groundlings,  who,  for  the 
most  part,  are  capable  of  nothing  but  in- 
explicable dumb-shows  and  noise:  I  would 
have  such  a  fellow  whipped  for  o'erdoing 

4.  "I  had  as  lief  the  town-crier,"  etc.;  "this  dialogue  of  Hamlet 
with  the  players,"  says  Coleridge,  "is  one  of  the  hajipiest  instances 
of  Shakespeare's  power  of  diversifying  the  scene  while  he  is  carry- 
ing on  the  plot." — H.  N.  H. 

93 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

Termagant;  it  out-herods  Herod;  pray  you, 
avoid  it. 
First  Play.  I  warrant  your  honor.  -^  ^^ 
Ham.  Be  not  too  tame  neither,  but  let  your  own   20 
discretion  be  your  tutor:  suit  the  action  to 
the  word,  the  word  to.  the  action ;  with  this 
special  observance,  that  you  o'erstep  not  the 
modesty  of  nature :  for  anything  so  overdone  — 
is  from  the  purpose  of  playing,  whose  end, 
both  at  the  first  and  now,  was  and  is,  to  hold, 
as  'twere,  the  mirror  up  to  nature  rto  show 
virtue  her  own  feature,  scorn  her  own  image, 
and  the  very  age  and  body  of  the  time,  his 
form  and  pressure.     Now  this  overdone  or   30 
come  tardy  ofF,  though  it  make  the  unskillful 
laugh,  cannot  but  make  the  judicious  grieve; 
the  censure  of  the  which  one  must  in  your  al- 
lowance o'erweigh  a  whole  theater  of  others. 
O,  there  be  players  that  I  have  seen  play, 
and  heard  others  praise,  and  that  highly,  not 
to  speak  it  profanely,  that  neither  having 
the  accent  of   Christians  nor  the  gait  of 
Christian,  pagan,  nor  man,  have  so  strutted 
and  bellowed,  that  I  have  thought  some  of  40 
nature's   journeymen  had  made  men,  and 
not  made  them  well,  they  imitated  humanity 
so  abominably. 
First  Play.  I  hope  we  have  reformed  that  in- 
differently with  us,  sir. 

33.  "allowance";  judgment. — C.  H.  H. 
39.  "nor  man";  so  Qq.;  Ff.,  "or  Norman."— I.  G. 
43.  "abominably";    the    word    was    currently    derived     from    "ab 
homine";  hence  the  point  of  its  use  here.— C.  H.  H. 

94 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  ill.  Sc.  ii. 

Ham.  O,  reform  it  altogether.  And  let  those 
that  play  your  clowns  speak  no  more  than  is 
set  down  for  them :  for  there  be  of  them  that 
will  themselves  laugh,  to  set  on  some  quan- 
tity of  barren  spectators  to  laugh  too,  though  50 
in  the  mean  time  some  necessary  question  of 
the  play  be  then  to  be  considered :  that 's  vil- 
lainous, and  shows  a  most  pitiful  ambition  in 
the  fool  that  uses  it.     Go,  make  you  ready. 

[Exeunt  Players. 

Entei'  Polonius,  Rosencrantz,  and  Guildenstern. 

How  now,  my  lord!  will  the  king  hear  this 

piece  of  work? 
Pol.  And  the  queen  too,  and  that  presently. 
Ham.  Bid  the  players  make  haste. 

[Exit  Polonius.'] 

Will  you  two  help  to  hasten  them? 

Gm'Z  I  ^^  ^'^^'  ^'^  ^^^^'  ^^ 

[Exeunt  Rosencrantz  and  Guildenstern. 
Ham.  What  ho !  Horatio ! 

Enter  Horatio. 

Hor.  Here,  sweet  lord,  at  your  service. 
Ham.  Horatio,  thou  art  e'en  as  just  a  man 

As  e'er  my  conversation  coped  withal. 
Hor.  O,  my  dear  lord, — 
Ham.  Nay,  do  not  think  I  flatter; 

53.  There  is  a  striking  passage  in  Q.  1,  omitted  in  Q.  2  and  Ff., 
concerning  those  "that  keep  one  suit  of  jests,  as  a  man  is  known 
by  one  suit  of  apparell";  the  lines  have  a  Shakespearean  note,  and 
are  probably  of  great  interest. — I.  G. 

95 


M^^ 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

For  what  advancement  may  I  hope  from  thee, 

That  no  revenue  hast  but  thy  good  spirits, 

To  feed  and  clothe  thee  ?     Why  should  the  poor 

be  flatter'd? 
No,  let  the  candied  tongue  lick  absurd  pomp, 
And  crook  the  pregnant  hinges  of  the  knee    70 
Where  thrift  may  follow  fawning.     Dost  thou 

hear? 
Since  my  dear  soul  was  mistress  of  her  choice, 
And  could  of  men  distinguish,  her  election 
Hath  seal'd  thee  for  herself:  for  thou  hast  been 
As  one,  in  suffering  all,  that  suffers  nothing; 
A  man  that  fortune's  buiFets  and  rewards 
Hast  ta'en  with  equal  thanks:   and  blest  are 

those 
Whose  blood  and  judgment  are  so  well  com- 
mingled 
That  they  are  not  a  pipe  for  for|;une's  finger 
To  sound  what  stop  she  please./  Give  me  that 
man  ^  '"  ~^0 

That  is  not  passion's  slave,  and  I  will  wear  him 
In  my  heart's  core,  aye,  in  my  heart  of  lieart, 

, ^As  I  do  thee.     Something  too  much  of  this. 

There  is  a  play  to-night  before  the  king; 
One  scene  of  it  comes  near  the  circumstance 
Which  I  have  told  thee  of  my  father's  death : 
I  prithee,  when  thou  seest  that  act  a-foot. 
Even  with  the  very  comment  of  thy  soul 
Observe  my  uncle:  if  his  occulted  guilt 

73.  "her  election  hath  sealed  thee";  thus  the  folio;  the  quartos 
make  election  the  object  of  disilnyuish,  and  use  She  as  the  subject 
of  hath  seal'd. — In  the  fourth  line  after,  the  quartos  have  co-meddlcd 
instead  of  commingled. — H.  N.  H. 

9G 


PKINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  ill.  Sc.  ii. 

Do  not  itself  unkennel  in  one  speech  90 

It  is  a  damned  ghost  that  we  have  seen, 

And  my  imaginations  are  as  foul 

As  Vulcan's  stithy.     Give  him  heedful  note;  f 

For  I  mine  eyes  will  rivet  to  his  face, 

And  after  we  will  both  our  judgments  join 

In  censure  of  his  seeming. 
Hor,  Well,  my  lord: 

If  he  steal  aught  the  whilst  this  play  is  playing, 

And  'scape  detecting,  I  will  pay  the  theft. 
Ham,  They  are  coming  to  the  play :  I  must  be  idle : 

Get  you  a  place.  100 

Danish  march.  A  flourish.  Enter  King,  Queen,. 
Polonius,  Ophelia,  Rosencrantz,  Guildenstern, 
and  other  Lords  attendant,  with  the  Guard  car- 
rying torches. 

King.  How  fares  our  cousin  Hamlet? 

Ham.  Excellent,  i'  faith;  of  the  chameleon's 

dish:  I  eat  the  air,  promise-crammed:  you 

cannot  feed  capons  so. 
King.  I  have  nothing  with  this  answer,  Ham- 
let ;  these  words  are  not  mine. 
Ham.  No,    nor    mine    now.     [To    Polonius~\ 

My  lord,  you  played  once  i'  the  university, 

you  say? 
Pol.  That  did  I,  my  lord,  and  was  accounted  a  HO 

good  actor. 
Ham.  What  did  you  enact? 
Pol.  I  did  enact  Julius  Caesar:  I  was  killed  i' 

the  Capitol;  Brutus  killed  me. 

113.  "I  was  killed  i'  the  capitol";  a  Latin  play  on  Caesar's  death 
XX-7  97 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

Ham.  It  was  a  brute  part  of  him  to  kill  so  capi- 
tal a  calf  there.     Be  the  players  ready? 

Ros,  Aye,  my  lord;  they  stay  upon  your  pa- 
tience. 

Queen.  Come  hither,  my  dear  Hamlet,  sit  by 

me.  120 

•Ham.  No,  good  mother,  here  's  metal  more  at- 
tractive. 

Pol.  [To  the  King]  O,  ho!  do  you  mark  that? 

Ham.  Lady,  shall  I  lie  in  your  lap? 

[Lying  down  at  Ophelia's  feet. 

Oph.  No,  my  lord. 

Ham.  I  mean,  my  head  upon  your  lap  ? 

Oph.  Aye,  my  lord. 

Ham.  Do  you  think  I  meant  country  matters? 

Oph.  I  think  nothing,  my  lord. 

Ham.  That 's   a  fair  thought  to  lie  between  130 
maids'  legs. 

Oph.  What  is,  my  lord? 

Ham.  Nothing. 

Oph.  You  are  merry,  my  lord. 

Ham,  Who,  I? 

Oph.  Aye,  my  lord. 

Ham.  O    God,   your   only   jig-maker.     What 
should  a  man  do  but  be  merry  ?  for,  look  you, 

was  performed  at  Christ  Church,  Oxford,  in  1582.  Malone  thinks 
that  there  was  an  English  play  on  the  same  subject  previous  to 
Shakespeare's.  Caesar  was  killed  in  Pompey's  portico,  and  not  in  the 
Capitol:  but  the  error  is  at  least  as  old  as  Chaucer's  time. — H.  N.  H. 
117.  "stay  upon  your  patience" ;  that  is,  they  wait  upon  your  suffer- 
ance or  \iiill.  Johnson  would  have  changed  the  word  to  pleasure; 
but  Shakespeare  has  it  in  a  similar  sense  in  The  Two  Oentlemen  of 
Verona,  Act  iii.  sc.  1 :  "And  think  my  patience  more  than  thy  desert 
is  privilege  for  thy  departure  hence," — H.  N.  H. 
r' 

98 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  ill.  Sc.  ii. 

how  cheerfully  my  mother  looks,  and  my 
father  died  within  's  two  hours.  140 

Oph.  Nay,  'tis  twice  two  months,  my  lord. 

Ham.  So  long?     Nay  then,  let  the  devil  wear  • 

black,  for  I  '11  have  a  suit  of  sables.  O 
heavens!  die  two  months  ago,  and  not  for- 
gotten yet  ?  Then  there 's  hope  a  great 
man's  memory  may  outlive  his  life  half  a 
year :  but,  by  'r  lady,  he  must  build  churches 
then ;  or  else  shall  he  suffer  not  thinking  on, 
with  the  hobby-horse,  whose  epitaph  is,  'For, 
O,  for,  O,  the  hobby-horse  is  forgot.'  150 

Hautboys  play.     The  dumh-show  enters. 

Enter  a  King  and  a  Queen  very  lovingly;  the 
Queen  embracing  him  and  he  her.  She  kneels, 
and  makes  show  of  protestation  unto  him.  He 
takes  her  up,  and  declines  his  head  upon  her 
neck:  lays  him  down  upon  a  bank  of  flowers: 
she,  seeing  him  asleep,  leaves  him.  Anon  comes 
in  a  fellow,  takes  off  his  crown,  kisses  it,  and 
pours  poison  in  the  King's  ears,  and  eocit.  The 
Queen  returns;  finds  the  King  dead,  and  makes 
passionate  action.  The  Poisoner,  with  some  two 
or  three  Mutes,  comes  in  again,  seeming  to  la- 
ment with  her.  The  dead  body  is  carried  away. 
The  Poisoner  wooes  the  Queen  with  gifts:  she 

150.  "the  hobby-horse  is  forgot";  alluding  to  the  expulsion  of  the 
hobby-horse  from  the  May-games,  where  he  had  long  been  a  favorite. 
— H.  N.  H. 

151.  Much  has  been  said  to  explain  the  introduction  of  the  dumb- 
show;  from  the  historical  point  of  view  its  place  in  a  court-play 
is  not  surprising,  vide  Glossary,  "Dumb  Show." — I.  G. 

99 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

seems  loath  and  unwilling  awhile ,  hut  in  the  end 
accepts  his  love.  [Exeunt. 

Oph.  What  means  this,  my  lord? 

Ham.  Marry,  this  is  miching  mallecho ;  it  means 

mischief. 
Oph.  Behke  this  show  imports  the  argument  of 

the  play. 

Enter  Prologue. 

Ham.  We  shall  know  by  this  fellow:  the  play- 
ers cannot  keep  counsel ;  they  '11  tell  all. 

Oph.  Will  he  tell  us  what  this  show  meant? 

Ham.  Aye,  or  any  show  that  you  '11  show  him: 
be  not  you  ashamed  to  show,  he  '11  not  shame  160 
to  tell  you  what  it  means. 

Oph.  You  are  naught,  you  are  naught:  I  '11 
mark  the  play. 

Pro.         For  us,  and  for  our  tragedy, 

Here  stooping  to  your  clemency, 
We  beg  your  hearing  patiently. 

Ham.  Is  this  a  prologue,  or  the  posy  of  a  ring? 

Oph.  'Tis  brief,  my  lord. 

Ham.  As  woman's  love. 

Enter  two  Players,  King  and  Queen. 

T  P.  King.  Full  thirty  times  hath  Phoebus'  cart  gone 
round  170 

Neptune's  salt  wash  and  Tellus'  orbed  ground. 
And  thirty  dozen  moons  with  borrowed  sheen 
About  the  world  have  times  twelve  thirties  been. 
Since  love  our  hearts  and  Hymen  did  our  hands 
Unite  commutual  in  most  sacred  bands.      \. 
100  -^ 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  III.  Sc.  u 

P,  Queen.  So  many  journeys  may  the  smi  and 
moon 
Make  us  again  count  o'er  ere  love  be  done ! 
But,  woe  is  me,  you  are  so  sick  of  late, 
So  far  from  cheer  and  from  }  our  former  state. 
That  I  distrust  you.     Yet,  though  I  distrust, 
Discomfort  you,,  my  lord,  it  nothing  must:  181 
For  women's  fear  and  love  holds  quantity. 
In  neither  aught,  or  in  extremity. 
Now,  what  my  love  is,  proof  hath  made  you 

know. 
And  as  my  love  is  sized,  my  fear  is  so: 
Where  love  is  great,  the  littlest  doubts  are  fear, 
Where  little  fears  grow  great,  great  love  grows 
there. 

P.  King.  Faith,  I  must  leave  thee,  love,  and  shortly 
too; 
My  operant  powers  their  functions  leave  to  do : 
And  thou  shalt  live  in  this  fair  world  behind,  190 
Honor'd,  beloved ;  and  haply  one  as  kind 
For  husband  shalt  thou — 

P.  Queen.  O,  confound  the  rest! 

Such  love  must  needs  be  treason  in  my  breast : 
In  second  husband  let  me  be  accurst ! 
None  wed  the  second  but  who  kill'd  the  first. 

Ham.  [Asidel  Wormwood,  wormwood. 

182.  The  reading  of  the  Ff.;  Qq.  is:— 

"For  women  feare  too  much,  even  as  they  love, 
And  women's  fear  and  love  holds  quantity." 

Johnson  believed  that  a  line  was  lost  rhyming  with  "love." — I.  G. 

183.  "In  neither  auf/ht,  or  in  extremity";  Malone's  emendation; 
Ff.,  "In  neither  ought,"  &c.;  Qq.,  "Eyther  none,  in  neither  ought," 
&c.— I.  G. 

101 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

P.  Queen.  The    instances    that    second    marriage 

move 
Are  base  respects  of  thrift,  but  none  of  love: 
A  second  time  I  kill  my  husband  dead, 
When  second  husband  kisses  me  in  bed.        200 
P.  King.  I  do  believe  you  think  what  now  you 

speak, 
But  what  we  do  determine  oft  we  break. 
Purpose  is  but  the  slave  to  memory. 
Of  violent  birth  but  poor  validity: 
Which  now,  like   fruit  unripe,   sticks  on  the 

tree, 
But  fall  unshaken  when  they  mellow  be. 
Most  necessary  'tis  that  we  forget 
To  pay  ourselves  what  to  ourselves  is  debt : 
What  to  ourselves  in  passion  we  propose, 
The  passion  ending,  doth  the  purpose  lose.  210 
The  violence  of  either  grief  or  joy 
Their  own  enactures  with  themselves  destroy: 
Where  joy  most  revels,  grief  doth  most  lament; 
Grief  joys,  joy  grieves,  on  slender  accident. 
This  world  is  not  for  aye,  nor  'tis  not  strange 
That  even  our  loves  should  with  our  fortunes 

change, 
For  'tis  a  question  left  us  yet  to  prove. 
Whether  love  lead  fortune  or  else  fortune  love. 
The  great  man  down,  you  mark  his  favorite 

flies; 
The  poor  advanced  makes  friends  of  enemies :  - 
And  hitherto  doth  love  on  fortune  tend ;         221 

219.  "favorite" ;   F.    1,   "favorites,"   a   reading   for   which    much   is 
to  be  said. — I.  G. 

102 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  ill.  Sc.  ii. 

For  who  not  needs  shall  never  lack  a  friend, 

And  who  in  want  a  hollow  friend  doth  try 

Directly  seasons  him  his  enemy. 

But,  orderly  to  end  where  I  begun. 

Our  wills  and  fates  do  so  contrary  run, 

That  our  devices  still  are  overthrown. 

Our  thoughts  are  ours,  their  ends  none  of  our 

own: 
So  think  thou  wilt  no  second  husband  wed, 
But  die  thy  thoughts  when  thy  first  lord  is  dead. 

P.  Queen.  Nor  earth  to  me  give  food  nor  heaven 
hght!  231 

Sport  and  repose  lock  from  me  day  and  night! 
To  desperation  turn  my  trust  and  hope! 
An  anchor's  cheer  in  prison  be  my  scope! 
Each  opposite,  that  blanks  the  face  of  joy. 
Meet  what  I  would  have  well  and  it  destroy! 
Both  here  and  hence  pursue  me  lasting  strife. 
If,  once  a  widow,  ever  I  be  wife ! 

Ham.  If  she  should  break  it  now! 

P.  King.  'Tis  deeply  sworn.     Sweet,  leave  me  here 

a  while;  240 

My  spirits  grow  dull,  and  fain  I  would  beguile 

The  tedious  day  with  sleep.  [Sleeps. 

P.  Queen.  Sleep  rock  thy  brain ; 

And  never  come  mischance  between  us  twain ! 

[Exit. 

Ham.  Madam,  how  like  you  this  play? 

Queen.  The  lady  doth  protest  too  much,  me- 
thinks. 

Ham.  O,  but  she  '11  keep  her  word. 

235.  "opposite";  rebuff,  adversity. — C.  H.  H. 
103 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

King.  Have  you  heard  the  argument  ?  Is  there 
no  offense  in  't  ? 

Ham.  No,  no,  they  do  but  jest,  poison  in  jest;  250 
no  offense  i'  the  world. 

King.  What  do  you  call  the  play? 

Ham.  The  Mouse-trap.  Marry,  how?  Tropi- 
cally. This  play  is  the  image  of  a  murder 
done  in  Vienna :  Gonzago  is  the  duke's  name ; 
his  wife,  Baptista:  you  shall  see  anon;  'tis  a 
knavish  piece  of  work;  but  what  o'  that? 
your  majesty,  and  we  that  have  free  souls, 
it  touches  us  not:  let  the  galled  jade  wince, 
our  withers  are  unwrung.  260 

Enter  Lucianus. 

This  is  one  Lucianus,  nephew  to  the  king. 
Oph.  You  are  as  good  as  a  chorus,  my  lord. 
Ham.  I  could  interpret  between  you  and  your 

love,  if  I  could  see  the  puppets  dallying. 
Oph.  You  are  keen,  my  lord,  you  are  keen. 
Hain .  It  would  cost  you  a  groaning  to  take  off 

my  edge. 
Oph.  Still  better  and  worse. 

255.  "Vienna";  Q.  1,  "Ouyana";  for  "Gonzago,"  Q.  1  reads  Alber- 
tits,  who  is  throughout  called  Duke;  in  Q.  2  it  is  always  King; 
excei)t  here  where  Hamlet  says  "Gonzago  is  the  Duke's  name." — I.  G. 

255.  "Gonzago  is  the  duke's  name";  all  the  old  copies  read  thus. 
Yet  in  the  dumb  show  we  have,  "Enter  a  King  and  Queen";  and  at 
the  end  of  this  speech,  "Lucianus,  nephew  to  the  king."  This  seem- 
ing inconsistency,  however,  may  be  reconciled.  Though  the  interlude 
is  the  image  of  the  murder  of  the  duke  of  Vienna,  or  in  other  words 
founded  upon  that  story,  the  Poet  might  make  the  principal  person 
in  his  fable  a  king.  Baptista  is  always  the  name  of  a  man. — 
H.  N.  H. 

104 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  ill.  Sc.  ii. 

Ham.  So  you  must  take  your  husbands.     Be- 
gin,   murderer ;    pox,    leave    thy    damnable  270 
faces,  and  begin.    Come :  the  croaking  raven 
doth  bellow  for  revenge. 

Luc.  Thoughts  black,  hands  apt,   drugs  fit,   and 
time  agreeing; 
Confederate  season,  else  no  creature  seeing; 
Thou   mixture   rank,   of  midnight  weeds   col- 
lected, 
With   Hecate's  ban  thrice  blasted,   thrice   in- 
fected. 
Thy  natural  magic  and  dire  property. 
On  wholesome  life  usurp  immediately. 

[Pours  the  poison  into  the  sleeper's  ear. 

Ham.  He  poisons  him  i'  the  garden  for  his 
estate.     His  name  's  Gonzago :  the  story  is  280 
extant,  and  written  in  very  choice  Italian: 
you  shall  see  anon  how  the  murderer  gets 
the  love  of  Gonzago's  wife. 

Oph.  The  king  rises. 

Ham.  What,  frighted  with  false  fire! 

Queen.  How  fares  my  lord? 

Pol.  Give  o'er  the  play. 

269.  "take  your  husbands";  alluding,  most  likely,  to  the  language 
of  the  Marriage  service:  "To  have  and  to  hold  from  this  day  for- 
ward, for  better,  for  worse,  for  richer,  for  poorer,"  &c. — All  the  old 
copies,  but  the  first  quarto,  have  mistake;  which  Theobald  conjec- 
tured should  be  must  take,  before  any  authority  for  it  was  known. 
— H.  N.  H. 

271.  "The  croaking  raven  doth  bellow  for  revenge"; 
cp.  "The  screeking  raven  sits  croaking  for  revenge, 

Whole  herds  of  beasts  comes  bellowing  for  revenge." 

The   True  Tragedy  of  Rich.  III.— J.  G. 
274.  "midnight  weeds";  that  is,  weeds  collected  at  midnight;  as  in 
Macbeth:     "Root  of  hemlock,  digg'd  i'the  dark."—H.  N.  H. 

105 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

King.  Give  me  some  light.     Away! 
Pol.  Lights,  Hghts,  Hghts! 

[Exeunt  all  but  Hamlet  and  Horatio. 
Ham.  Why,  let  the  stricken  deer  go  weep,        290 
The  hart  ungalled  play; 
For  some  must  watch,  while  some  must  sleep : 

Thus  runs  the  world  away. 
Would  not  this,  sir,  and  a  forest  of  feathers 
— if  the  rest  of  my  fortunes  turn  Turk  with 
me — with  two  Provincial  roses  on  my  razed 
shoes,  get  me  a  fellowship  in  a  cry  of 
players,  sir? 
Hor.  Half  a  share. 

Ham.  A  whole  one,  I.  300 

For  thou  dost  know,  O  Damon  dear, 

This  realm  dismantled  was 
Of  Jove  himself;  and  now  reigns  here 
A  very,  very — pa  jock. 

Hor.  You  might  have  rhymed. 
Ham.  O  good  Horatio,  I  '11  take  the  ghost's 
word   for  a  thousand   pound.     Didst  per- 
ceive ? 
Hor.  Very  well,  my  lord. 

Ham.  Upon  the  talk  of  the  poisoning?  310 

Hor.  I  did  verj^  well  note  him. 
Ham.  Ah,  ha!     Come,  some  music!  come,  the 
recorders ! 

For  if  the  king  like  not  the  comedy, 
Why  then,  belike,  he  likes  it  not,  perdy. 
Come,  some  music! 

299.  "half  a  share";  the  players  were  paid  not  by  salaries,  but  by 
shares  or  portions  of  the  profit,  according  to  merit. — H.  N.  H. 

106 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  ill.  Sc.  h. 

Re-enter  Rosencrantz  and  Guildenstern. 

Guil.  Good  my  lord,  vouchsafe  me  a  word  with 
you. 

Ham.  Sir,  a  whole  history. 

Guil.  The  king,  sir,—  320 

Ham.  Aye,  sir,  what  of  him? 

Guil.  Is  in  his  retirement  marvelous  distem- 
pered. 

Ham.  With  drink,  sir? 

Guil.  No,  my  lord,  rather  with  choler. 

Ham.  Your  wisdom  should  show  itself  more 
richer  to  signify  this  to  the  doctor;  for,  for 
me  to  put  him  to  his  purgation  would  per- 
haps plunge  him  into  far  more  choler. 

Guil.  Good  my  lord,  put  your  discourse  into  330 
some  frame,  and  start  not  so  wildly  from 
my  affair. 

Ham.  I  am  tame,  sir:  pronounce. 

Guil.  The  queen,  your  mother,  in  most  great 
affliction  of  spirit,  hath  sent  me  to  you. 

Ham.  You  are  welcome. 

Guil.  Nay,  good  my  lord,  this  courtesy  is  not  of 
the  right  breed.  If  it  shall  please  you  to 
make  me  a  wholesome  answer,  I  will  do  your 
mother's  commandment :  if  not,  your  pardon  340 
and  my  return  shall  be  the  end  of  my  busi- 
ness. 

Ham.  Sir,  I  cannot. 

Guil.  What,  my  lord? 

Ham.  Make  you  a  wholesome  answer;  my  wit's 
diseased :  but,  sir,  such  answer  as  I  can  make, 

107 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

you  shall  command;  or  rather,  as  you  say, 
my  mother:  therefore  no  more,  but  to  the 
matter:  my  mother,  you  say, — 

Ros.  Then  thus  she  says ;  your  behavior  hath  350 
struck  her  into  amazement  and  admiration. 

Ham.  O  wonderful  son,  that  can  so  astonish  a 
mother!  But  is  there  no  sequel  at  the  heels 
of  this  mother's  admiration?     Impart. 

Ros.  She  desires  to  speak  with  you  in  her  closet, 
ere  you  go  to  bed. 

Ham.  We  shall  obey,  were  she  ten  times  our 
mother.  Have  you  any  further  trade  with 
us? 

Ros.  My  lord,  you  once  did  love  me.  360 

Ham.  So  I  do  still,  by  these  pickers  and 
stealers. 

Ros.  Good  my  lord,  what  is  your  cause  of  dis- 
temper? you  do  surely  bar  the  door  upon 
your  own  liberty,  if  you  deny  your  griefs  to 
your  friend. 

Ham.  Sir,  I  lack  advancement. 

Ros.  How  can  that  be,  when  you  have  the  voice 
of  the  king  himself  for  your  succession  in 
Denmark?  370 

Ham.  Aye,  sir,  but  'while  the  grass  grows,' — 
the  proverb  is  something  musty. 

Re-enter  Players  with  recorders. 

O,  the  recorders!  let  me  see  one.  To  with- 
draw with  you : — why  do  you  go  about  to  re- 
cover the  wind  of  me,  as  if  you  would  drive 
me  into  a  toil? 

376.  "toil";  net.— C.  H.  H. 
108 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  in.  Sc.  ii. 

Guil.  O,  my  lord,  if  my  duty  be  too  bold,  my 
love  is  too  unmannerly. 

Ham.  I   do  not  well  understand  that.     Will 
you  play  upon  this  pipe?  380 

Ghiil.  My  lord,  I  cannot. 

Ham.  I  pray  you. 

Guil.  Believe  me,  I  cannot. 

Ham.  I  do  beseech  you. 

Guil.  I  know  no  touch  of  it,  my  lord. 

Ham.  It  is  as  easy  as  lying:  govern  these  ven 
tages  with  your  fingers  and  thumb,  give  it 
breath  with  your  mouth,  and  it  will  discourse 
most  eloquent  music.     Look  you,  these  are 
the  stops.  390 

Guil.  But  these  cannot  I  command  to  any  utter- 
ance of  harmony ;  I  have  not  the  skill. 

Ham.  Why,  look  you  now,  how  unworthy  a 
thing  you  make  of  me!  You  would  play 
upon  me ;  you  would  seem  to  know  my  stops ; 
you  would  pluck  out  the  heart  of  my 
mystery ;  you  would  sound  me  from  my  low- 
est note  to  the  top  of  my  compass :  and  there 
is  much  music,  excellent  voice,  in  this  little 
organ ;  yet  cannot  you  make  it  speak.  400 
'Sblood,  do  you  think  I  am  easier  to  be 
played  on  than  a  pipe?  Call  me  what  in- 
strument you  will,  though  you  can  fret  me, 
yet  you  cannot  play  upon  hie. 

379.  Hamlet  may  say  with  propriety,  "I  do  not  well  understand 
that."  Perhaps  Guildenstern  means,  "If  my  duty  to  the  king  makes 
me  too  bold,  my  love  to  you  makes  me  importunate  even  to  rudeness.*' 
— H.  N.  H. 

109 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.  TRAGEDY  OF  HA]MLET 

He-enter  Polonius. 

God  bless  you,  sir ! 
Pol.  My  lord,  the  queen  would  speak  with  you, 

and  presently. 
Ham.  Do  you  see  yonder  cloud  that's  almost 

in  shape  of  a  camel? 
Pol.  By  the  mass,  and  'tis  like  a  camel,  indeed.  410 
Ham.  JMethinks  it  is  like  a  weasel. 
Pol.  It  is  backed  like  a  weasel. 
Ham.  Or  like  a  whale? 
Pol.  Very  like  a  whale. 

Ham.  Then  I  will  come  to  my  mother  by  and 
by.     They  fool  me  to  the  top  of  my  bent. 
I  will  come  by  and  by. 
Pol.  I  will  say  so.  [Exit  Polonius. 

Ham.  'By  and  by'  is  easily  said.     Leave  me, 

friends.  [Exeunt  all  hut  Hamlet. 

I     'Tis  now  the  very  witching  time  of  night,  420 

When  churchyards  yawn,  and  hell  itself  breathes 

out 
Contagion  to  this  world :  now  could  I  drink  hot 

blood, 
And  do  such  bitter  business  as  the  day 
Would  quake  to  look  on.     Soft!  now  to  my 
mother. 

0  heart,  lose  not  thy  nature ;  let  not  ever 
The  soul  of  Nero  enter  this  firm  bosom: 
Let  me  be  cruel,  not  unnatural : 

1  will  speak  daggers  to  her,  but  use  none; 
My  tongue  and  soul  in  this  be  hypocrites; 

453.  "bitter  business  as  the  day";  so  Ff.;  Qq.  read  "business  as 
the  bitter  day."— I.  G. 

110 


\ 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  ill.  Sc.  iii. 

How  in  my  words  soever  she  be  shent,  430 

To  give  them  seals  never,  my  soul,  consent !  ' 

[Ecdt, 

Scene  III 

A  room  in  the  castle. 
Enter  King,  Rosencrantz,  and  Guildenstern. 

King.  I  like  him  not,  nor  stands  it  safe  with  us 
To  let  his  madness  range.     Therefore  prepare 

you; 
I  your  commission  will  forthwith  dispatch. 
And  he  to  England  shall  along^  itl\.  you ;  ^Lc/^J[  ^  i 
The  terms  of  our  estate  may  not  endure  ^^  jij 

Hazard  so  near  us  as  doth  hourly  grow 
Out  of  his  lunacies. 

Ckiil.  We  will  ourselves  provide: 

Most  holy  and  religious  fear  it  is 
To  keep  those  many  many  bodies  safe 
That  live  and  feed  upon  your  majest3^  10 

Ros.  The  single  and  peculiar  life  is  bound 

With  all  the  strength  and  armor  of  the  mind 
To  keep  itself  from  noyance ;  but  much  more 
That  spirit  upon  whose  weal  depends  and  rests 
The  lives  of  many.     The  cease  of  majesty 
Dies  not  alone,  but  like  a  gulf  doth  draw 
What 's  near  it  with  it ;  it  is  a  massy  wheel, 
Fix'd  on  the  summit  of  the  highest  mount, 
To   whose    huge    spokes    ten    thousand    lesser 
things 

7.  "lunacies";  so  Ff. ;  Qq.,  "browes." — I.  G, 
111 


Act  III.  Sc.  iii.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

Are   mortised   and   adjoin'd;   which,   when   it 
falls,  20 

Each  small  annexment,  petty  consequence, 
Attends  the  boisterous  ruin.  Never  alone 
Did  the  king  sigh,  but  with  a  general  groan. 

King.  Arm  you,  I  pray  you,  to  this  speedy  voyage, 
For  we  will  fetters  put  about  this  fear, 
Which  now  goes  too  free- footed. 

Ros. 


fy   ']  r  We  will  haste  us. 

[Exeunt  Rosencrantz  and  Guildenstern. 
Enter  Polonius 

Pol.  My  lord,  he  's  going  to  his  mother's  closet : 
Behind  the  arras  I  '11  convey  myself. 
To  hear  the  process :  I  '11  warrant  she  '11  tax  him 

home: 
And,  as  you  said,  and  wisely  was  it  said,         30 
'Tis   meet   that    some    more    audience   than    a 

mother, 
Since  nature  makes  them  partial,  should  o'er- 
hear 
The  speech,   of  vantage.     Fare  you  well,  my 
liege : 
I  '11  call  upon  you  ere  you  go  to  bed, 
And  tell  you  what  I  know. 
King.  Thanks,  dear  my  lord. 

[Exit  Polonius. 

30.  "as  you  said."  Polonius  astutely  (or  obliviously)  attributes  his 
own  suggestion  to  the  king. — C.  H.  H. 

33.  "speech  of  vantage"  probably  means  "speech  having  the  ad- 
vantage of  a  mother's  partiality." — H.  N.  H. 

112 


PRINL^   ^- 

O,  my  offffse  .s  raiuc,  it  smells  to  heaven; 
It  hath  th    prir.iai    idest  curse  upon  't, 
A  brother        •    .  Pray  can  I  not, 

Though  i  be  as  sharp  as  will: 

My  stron  lef eats  my  strong  intent,    40 

And  like  double  business  bound, 

I  stand  /here  I  shall  first  begin, 

And  bo  ;      What  if  this  cursed  hand 

Were  t  .    i  itself  with  brother's  blood. 

Is  ther    not  ra).^  enough  in  the  sweet  heavens 
To  w{  i>  ir  w)'  :e  as  snow?     Whereto   serves 

me   'v 
Butt  r--:  the  visage  of  offense? 

And  )rayer  but  this  twofold  force, 

To  1:  ed  ere  we  come  to  fall. 

Or  being    down?     Then    I  '11    look 

r  50 

My        .risi)ast.     But  O,  what  form  of  prayer 
Car  ^-    '■■  r   turn?     'Forgive   me   my    foul 

Th  V,,     be,  since  I  am  still  possess'd 

Oi  cts  for  which  I  did  the  murder, 

M       :     ....    line  own  ambition  and  my  queen. 
May  one  hv.  pardon'd  and  retain  the  offense? 
I      ''e  corr  ipted  currents  of  this  world 
C   ■   Vise';:      Ided  hand  may  shove  by  justice. 
And  or"!      s  seen  the  wicked  prize  itself 
Buy  he  law:  but  'tis  not  so  above;       60 

I  shuffling,  there  the  action  lies 
i  nature,  and  we  ourselves  compell'd 

3<  nut";  that  is,  "though  I  vere  not  only  willing,  but 

str  0  j)ray,  my  guilt  would  prevent  nie." — H.  N.  II. 

113 


Act  III.  Sc.  iii.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

Even  to  the  teeth  and  forehead  of  our  faults 
To  give  in  evidence.     What  then?  what  rests? 
Try  what  repentance  can:  ^'hat  can  it  not? 
Yet  what  can  it  when  one  can  not  repent? 
O  wretched  state!     O  bosom  black  as  death; 
O  limed  soul,  that  strugglin^^  to  be  free 
Art  more  engaged !     Help,  angels !  make  assay ! 
Bow,  stubborn  knees,  and,  hetU't  with  strings  of 
steel,  70 

Be  soft  as  sinews  of  the  new-born  babe ! 
All  may  be  well.  [Retires  and  kneels. 

Enter  Hamlet 

Ham.  Now  might  I  do  it  pat,  now  he  js  praying; 
And  now  I  '11  do  't:  and  so  he  goes  to  heaven: 
And    so    am    I    revenged.     That    would    be 

scann'd ; 
A  villain  kills  my  father;  and  for  tl^at, 
I,  his  sole  son,  do  this  same  villain  send 
To  heaven. 

O,  this  is  hire  and  salary,  not  revenge. 
He  took  my  father  grossly,  full  of  br.ead,     80 
With  all  his  crimes  broad  blown,  as  flush  as 

May; 

71-76,  78-81,  161-165,  167-170,  203-210,  omitted  in  Ff .— I-  G. 

72.  "All  may  be  well";  "This  speech  well  marks  the  difference  be- 
tween crime  and  guilt  of  habit.  The  conscience  here  is  still  ad- 
mitted to  audience.  Nay,  even  as  an  audible  soliloquy*  it  is  far  less 
improbable  than  is  supposed  by  such  as  have  watched  men  only 
in  the  beaten  road  of  their  feelings.  But  the  final— "All  may  be 
well!"  is  remarkable; — the  degree  of  merit  attributed  by  the  self- 
flattering  soul  to  its  own  struggles,  though  baffled,  and  to  the  in- 
definite half  promise,  half  command,  to  persevere  in  religi'^us  duties" 
(Coleridge).— H.  N.  H. 

79.  "hire  and  salary";  so  Ff.;  Qq.  misprint,  "base  and  silly." — 
I.  G. 

114 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  III.  Sc.  h. 

And   how   his   audit    stands   who   knows   save 

heaven  ? 
But  in  our  circumstance  and  course  of  thought, 
'Tis  heavy  with  him:  and  am  I  then  revenged, 
To  take  him  in  the  purging  of  his  soul. 
When  he  is  fit  and  season'd  for  his  passage? 
No. 

Up,  sword,  and  know  thou  a  more  horrid  hent : 
When  he  is  drunk  asleep,  or  in  his  rage. 
Or  in  the  incestuous  pleasure  of  his  bed;       90 
At  game,  a-swearing,  or  about  some  act 
That  has  no  relish  of  salvation  in  't; 
Then  trip  him,  that  his  heels  may  kick  at  heaven 
And  that  his  soul  may  be  as  damn'd  and  black 
As  hell,  whereto  it  goes.     My  mother  stays: 
This  physic  but  prolongs  thy  sickly  days.  [Eirit. 
King.   [Rising]  My  words  fly  up,  my  thoughts  re- 
main below: 
Words  without  thoughts  never  to  heaven  go. 


Scene  IV 

The  Queens  closet. 

Enter  Queen  and  Polonius. 

Pol.  He  will  come  straight.     Look  you  lay  home  to 
him: 
Tell  him  his  pranks  have  been  too  broad  to  bear 
with, 

83.  "So  far  as  we  can  judge  by  inference." — C.  H.  H. 
11') 


Act  III.  Se.  iv.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

And  that  your  grace  hath  screen 'd  and  stood 

between 
Much  heat  and  him.     I  '11  sconce  me  even  here. 
Pray  you,  be  round  with  him. 
Ham.  [^VithiTi]  Mother,  mother,  mother! 

Queen.  I  '11  warrant  you ;  fear  me  not.    Withdraw, 
I  hear  him  coming. 

[Polonius  hides  behind  the  arras. 

Enter  Hamlet. 

Ham.  Now,  mother,  what 's  the  matter? 

Queen.  Hamlet,  thou  hast  thy   father  much  of- 
fended. 

Ham.  Mother,    you    have    my    father    much    of- 
fended. 

Queen.  Come,    come,    you    answer    with    an    idle 
tongue. 

Ham.  Go,  go,  you  question  with  a  wicked  tongue. 

Queen.  Why,  how  now,  Hamlet ! 

Ham.  What 's  the  matter  now  ? 

Queen.  Plave  you  forget  me? 

Ham.  No,  by  the  rood,  not  so: 

You  are  the  queen,  your  husband's  brother's 

wife ; 
And — would    it    were    not    so! — you    are    my 
mother. 

Queen.  Nay,  then,  I  '11  set  those  to  you  that  can 
speak. 

Ham.  Come,  come,  and  sit  you  down;  you  shall 
not  budge; 
You  go  not  till  I  set  you  up  a  glass 
116 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  ill.  Sc.  h. 

Where  you  may  see  the  inmost  part  of  you.    20 
Queen.  What  wilt  thou  do?  thou  wilt  not  murder 
me? 
Help,  help,  ho! 
Pol.  [Behind]  What,  ho!  help,  help,  help! 
Ham.  [Drawing]  How  now!  a  rat?  Dead,  for  a 
ducate,  dead! 

[Makes  a  pass  through  the  arras. 
Pol.  [Behind]  O,  I  am  slain!  [Falls  and  dies. 
Queen.  O  me,  what  hast  thou  done  ? 

Ham.  Nay,  I  know  not:  is  it  the  king? 
Queen.  O,  what  a  rash  and  bloody  deed  is  this! 
Ham.  A  bloody  deed!  almost  as  bad,  good  mother, 

As  kill  a  king,  and  marry  with  his  brother. 
Queen.  As  kill  a  king! 

Ham.  Aye,  lady,  'twas  my  word.       30 

[Lifts  up  the  arras  and  discovers  Polonius. 
Thou  wretched,  rash,  intruding  fool,  farewell! 
I  took  thee  for  thy  better :  take  thy  fortune ; 
Thou  find'st  to  be  too  busy  is  some  danger. 
Leave  wringing  of  your  hands:  peace!  sit  you 

down. 
And  let  me  wring  your  heart :  for  so  I  shall, 
If  it  be  made  of  penetrable  stuff; 
If  damned  custom  have  not  brass'd  it  so. 
That  it  be  proof  and  bulwark  against  sense. 
Queen.  What  have  I  done,  that  thou  darest  wag 
thy  tongue 
In  noise  so  rude  against  me? 
Ham.  Such  an  act     40 

That  blurs  the  grace  and  blush  of  modesty, 
117 


Act  III.  Sc.  iv.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

Calls  virtue  hypocrite,  takes  off  the  rose 

From  the  fair  forehead  of  an  innocent  love. 

And  sets  a  blister  there;  makes  marriage  vows 

As  false  as  dicers'  oaths :  O,  such  a  deed 

As  from  the  body  of  contraction  plucks 

The  very  soul,  and  sweet  religion  makes 

A  rhapsody  of  words :  heaven's  face  doth  glow ; 

Yea,  this  solidity  and  compound  mass. 

With  tristful  visage,  as  against  the  doom,     ^^ 

Is  thought-sick  at  the  act. 

Queen.  Aye  me,  what  act. 

That  roars  so  loud  and  thunders  in  the  index? 

Ham.  Look  here,  upon  this  picture,  and  on  this. 
The  counterfeit  presentment  of  two  brothers. 
See  what  a  grace  was  seated  on  this  brow; 
Hyperion's  curls,  the  front  of  Jove  himself. 
An  eye  like  Mars,  to  threaten  and  command; 
A  station  like  the  herald  Mercury 
New-lighted  on  a  heaven-kissing  hill; 
A  combination  and  a  form  indeed,  60 

Where  every  god  did  seem  to  set  his  seal 
To  give  the  world  assurance  of  a  man: 
This  was  your  husband.     Look  you  now,  what 
follows : 

49.  "soUdily";  the  earth.— C.  H.  H. 

53.  "Look  here,  upon  this  picture,  and  on  this."  It  has  been 
doubted  whether  Hamlet  here  points  to  two  portraits  hung  on  the 
walls  or  takes  a  miniature  of  his  father  from  his  pocket.  Irving  and 
Salvini  even  suppose  the  pictures  to  be  drawn  only  to  the  imagina- 
tion. That  the  Elizabethans  understood  actual  paintings  of  con- 
siderable size  may  probably  be  gathered  from  the  German  version, 
where  Hamlet  says:  "Aber  sehet,  dort  in  jener  Gallerie  hiingt  das 
Conterfait  Eures  ersten  Ehegemahls,  und  da  hdngt  das  Conterfait 
des  itzigen"  (iii.  5.). — C.  H.  H. 

118 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  III.  Sc.  h. 

Here  is  your  husband;  like  a  mildew'd  ear, 
Blasting   his    wholesome    brother.     Have   you 

eyes? 
Could  you  on  this  fair  mountain  leave  to  feed. 
And  batten  on  this  moor  ?     Ha !  have  you  eyes  ? 
You  cannot  call  it  love,  for  at  your  age 
The  hey-day  in  the  blood  is  tame,  it 's  humble, 
And  waits  upon  the  judgment:  and  what  judg- 
ment 70 
Would  step  from  this  to  this?     Sense  sure  you 

have. 
Else  could  you  not  have  motion:  but  sure  that 

sense 
Is  apoplex'd:  for  madness  would  not  err, 
Nor  sense  to  ecstasy  was  ne'er  so  thrall'd 
But  it  reserved  some  quantity  of  choice. 
To   serve  in  such  a  difference.     What   devil 

was  't  /fl( 
That  thus  hath  cozen'd  you  at  hoodman-blind  ? 
Eyes  without  feeling,  feeling  without  sight. 
Ears  without  hands  or  eyes,  smelling  sans  all. 
Or  but  a  sickly  part  of  one  true  sense  80 

Could  not  so  mope. 

O  shame!  where  is  thy  blush?     Rebellious  hell. 
If  thou  canst  mutine  in  a  matron's  bones. 
To  flaming  youth  let  virtue  be  as  wax 
And  melt  in  her  own  fire:  proclaim  no  shame 
When  the  compulsive  ardor  gives  the  charge. 
Since  frost  itself  as  actively  doth  burn. 
And  reason  pandars  will. 
Queen.  O  Hamlet,  speak  no  more: 

Thou  turn'st  mine  eyes  into  my  very  soul, 
119 


X- 


Act  TIL  Sc.  iv.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

And  there  I  see  such  black  and  grained  spots  90 

As  will  not  leave  their  tinct. 
Ham.  Nay,  but  to  live 

In  the  rank  sweat  of  an  enseamed  bed, 

Stew'd   in   corruption,   honeying   and   making 
love 

Over  the  nasty  sty, — 
Queen.  O,  speak  to  me  no  more; 

These  words  like  daggers  enter  in  my  ears; 

No  more,  sweet  Hamlet  I 
Ham.  A  murderer  and  a  villain; 

A  slave  that  is  not  twentieth  part  the  tithe 

Of  your  precedent  lord;  a  vice  of  kings; 

A  cutpurse  of  the  empire  and  the  rule. 

That  from  a  shelf  the  precious  diadem  stole  100 

And  put  it  in  his  pocket! 
Queen.  No  more ! 

Ham.  A  king  of  shreds  and  patches — 

Enter  Ghost. 

Save  me,  and  hover  o'er  me  with  your  wings, 
You    heavenly    guards!     What    would    your 
gracious  figure? 

Queen.  Alas,  he  's  mad ! 

Ham.  Do  you  not  come  your  tardy  son  to  chide, 
That,  lapsed  in  time  and  passion,  lets  go  by 
The  important  acting  of  your  dread  command? 
O,  say! 

3.  "Enter  ghost";  when  the  Ghost  goes  out,  Hamlet  says, — "Look, 
how  it  steals  away!  my  father,  in  his  habit  as  he  liv'd."  It  has 
been  much  argued  what  is  meant  by  this;  that  is,  whether  the  Ghost 
should  wear  armor  here,  as  in  former  scenes,  or  appear  in  a  differ- 
ent dress.  The  question  is  set  at  rest  by  the  stage-direction  in  the 
quarto:     "Enter  the  Ghost,  in  his  night-gown." — H.  N.  H. 

120 


I 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  ill.  Sc.  iv. 

Ghost.  Do  not  forget:  this  visitation  110 

Is  but  to  whet  thy  ahnost  blunted  purpose. 
But  look,  amazement  on  thy  mother  sits : 
O,  step  between  her  and  her  fighting  soul: 
Conceit  in  weakest  bodies  strongest  works: 
Speak  to  her,  Hamlet. 
Ham.  How  is  it  with  you,  lady? 

Queen.  Alas,  how  is  't  with  you, 

That  you  do  bend  your  ej^e  on  vacancy 
And  with  the  incorporal  air  do  hold  discourse? 
Forth  at  your  eyes  your  spirits  wildly  peep ; 
And,  as  the  sleeping  soldiers  in  the  alarm,  120 
Your  bedded  hairs,  like  life  in  excrements, 
Stand  up  and  stand  an  end.     O  gentle  son. 
Upon  the  heat  and  flame  of  thy  distemper 
Sprinkle    cool     patience.     Whereon     do     you 

look? 
Ham.  On  him,  on  him!     Look  you  how  pale  he 

glares ! 
His   form  and  cause  conjoin'd,   preaching  to 

stones. 
Would  make  them  capable.     Do  not  look  upon 

me. 
Lest  with  this  piteous  action  you  convert 
My  stern  effects:  then  what  I  have  to  do 
Will    want    true    color;    tears    perchance    for 

blood.  130 

129.  "my  stern  effects";  affects  was  often  used  for  affections;  as  in 
Othello,  "the  young  affects  in  me  defunct."  The  old  copies  read 
effects,  which  was  a  frequent  misprint  for  affects.  Singer  justly 
remarks,  that  "the  'piteous  action'  of  the  Ghost  could  not  alter 
things  already  effected,  but  might  move  Hamlet  to  a  less  stern  mood 
of  mind." — H.  N.  H. 

121 


Act  III.  So.  iv.  TRAGEDY  OF  IIA^NILET 

Queen.  To  whom  do  you  speak  this? 

Ham.  Do  you  see  nothing  there? 

Queen.  Nothing  at  all;  yet  all  that  is  I  see. 

Ham.  Nor  did  you  nothing  hear? 

Queen.  Xo,  nothing  but  ourselves. 

Ham.  Whj%  look  you  there!  look,  how  it  steals 
away ! 
]My  father,  in  his  habit  as  he  lived! 
Look,  where  he  goes,  even  now,  out  at  the  por- 
tal! [Ea^it  Ghost. 

Queen.  This  is  the  very  coinage  of  your  brain: 
This  bodiless  creation  ecstasy 
Is  very  cunning  in. 

Ham.  Ecstasy ! 

INIy   pulse,    as   yours,    doth   temperately    keep 
time,  '  140 

And  makes  as  healthful  music :  it  is  not  madness 
That  I  have  utter'd:  bring  me  to  the  test. 
And  I  the  matter  will  re-word,  which  madness 
Would   gambol   from.     Mother,    for   love    of 

grace. 
Lay  not  that  flattering  unction  to  your  soul. 
That  not  your  trespass  but  my  madness  speaks : 
It  will  but  skin  and  film  the  ulcerous  place. 
Whiles  rank  corruption,  mining  all  within. 
Infects  unseen.     Confess  yourself  to  heaven; 
Repent  what 's  past,  avoid  w^hat  is  to  come,  150 

144.  "would  gambol  from";  science  has  found  the  Poet's  test  a 
correct  one.  Dr.  Ray,  of  Providence,  in  his  work  on  the  Jurispru- 
dence of  Insanity,  thus  states  the  point:  "In  simulated  mania,  the 
imposter,  when  requested  to  repeat  his  disordered  idea,  will  generally 
do  it  correctly;  while  the  genuine  patient  will  be  apt  to  wander 
from  the  track,  or  introduce  ideas  that  had  not  presented  themselves 
before.'— H.  N.  H. 

122 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  ill.  Sc.  iv. 

And  do  not  spread  the  compost  on  the  weeds, 
To  make  them  ranker.     Forgive  me  this  my 

virtue, 
For  in  the  fatness  of  these  pursy  times 
Virtue  itself  of  vice  must  pardon  beg. 
Yea,  curb  and  woo  for  leave  to  do  him  good. 

Queen.  O  Hamlet,  thou  hast  cleft  my  heart  in 
.1         twain. 

Ham.  O,  throw  away  the  worser  part  of  it. 
And  live  the  purer  with  the  other  half. 
Good  night :  but  go  not  to  my  uncle's  bed ; 
Assume  a  virtue,  if  you  have  it  not.  160 

That  monster,  custom,  who  all  sense  doth  eat, 
Of  habits  devil,  is  angel  yet  in  this, 
That  to  the  use  of  actions  fair  and  good 
He  likewise  gives  a  frock  or  livery. 
That  aptly  is  put  on.     Refrain  to-night, 
And  that  shall  lend  a  kind  of  easiness 

162.  "is  angel  yet  in  this";  a  verj-  obscure  and  elliptical  passage, 
if  indeed  it  be  not  corrupt.  We  have  adopted  Caldecott's  pointing, 
which  gives  the  meaning  somewhat  thus:  "That  monster,  custom, 
who  devours  or  eats  out  all  sensibility  or  feeling  as  to  what  we  do, 
though  he  be  the  devil  or  evil  genius  of  our  habits,  is  yet  our  good 
angel  in  this."  Collier  and  Verplanck  order  the  pointing  thus: 
"Who  all  sense  doth  eat  of  habits,  devil,  is  angel  yet  in  this."  Where 
the  meaning  is, — "That  monster,  custom,  who  takes  away  all  sense 
of  habits,  devil  though  he  be,  is  still  an  angel  in  this  respect." 
This  also  pleads  a  fair  title  to  preference,  and  we  find  it  not  easy 
to  choose  between  the  two.  Dr.  Thirlby  proposed  to  read,  "Of 
habits  evil";  which  would  give  the  clear  and  natural  sense,  that  by 
custom  we  lose  all  feeling  or  perception  of  bad  habits,  and  become 
reconciled  to  them  as  if  they  were  nature.  The  probability,  how- 
ever, that  an  antithesis  was  meant  between  devil  and  angel,  is 
against  this  reading;  otherwise,  we  should  incline  to  think  it  right. 
— The  whole  sentence  is  omitted  in  the  folio;  as  is  also  the  passage 
beginning  with  "the  next  more  easy,"  and  ending  with  "wondrous 
potency." — H.  N.  H. 

123 


Act  in.  Sc.  iv.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

To  the  next  abstinence;  the  next  more  easy; 
For  use  aknost  can  change  the  stamp  of  nature, 
And  either     .     .     .     the  devil,  or  throw  him 

out 
With   wondrous    potency.     Once    more,    good 

night:  170 

And  when  you  are  desirous  to  be  blest, 
I  '11  blessing  beg  of  you.     For  this  same  lord, 

[Pointing  to  Polonius. 
I  do  repent:  but  heaven  hath  pleased  it  so. 
To  punish  me  with  this,  and  this  with  me. 
That  I  must  be  their  scourge  and  minister. 
I  will  bestow  him,  and  will  answer  well 
The  death  I  gave  him.     So,  again,  good  night. 
I  must  be  cruel,  only  to  be  kind: 
Thus  bad  begins,  and  worse  remains  behind.  ^ 
One  word  more,  good  lady. 
Queen.  What  shall  I  do?       180 

Ham.  Not  this,  by  no  means,  that  I  bid  you  do: 
Let  the  bloat  king  tempt  you  again  to  bed ; 
Pinch   wantom   on   your   cheek,    call   you   his 

mouse ; 
And  let  him,  for  a  pair  of  reechy  kisses. 
Or   paddling   in   your   neck   with   his   darrm'd 

fingers. 
Make  j^ou  to  ravel  all  this  matter  out, 
That  I  essentially  am  not  in  madness, 

169.  "And  either  .  .  .  the  devil";  some  such  word  as  "master" 
"quell,"  "shame,"  has  been  omitted  in  Qq.,  which  read  "and  either 
the  dei'il." — I.  G. 

184.  "reechy  kisses";  reeky  and  reechy  are  the  same  word,  and 
always  applied  to  any  vaporous  exhalation,  even  to  the  fumes  of  a 
dunghill.— H.  N.  H. 

124 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  ill.  Sc.  iv. 

But  mad  in  craft.     'Twei-e  good  you  let  him 

know ; 
For  who,  that 's  but  a  queen,  fair,  sober,  wise. 
Would  from  a  paddock,  from  a  bat,  a  gib,  190 
Such  dear  concernings  hide?  who  would  do  so? 
No,  in  despite  of  sense  and  secrecy. 
Unpeg  the  basket  on  the  house's  top. 
Let  the  birds  fly,  and  like  the  famous  ape, 
To  try  conclusions,  in  the  basket  creep 
And  break  your  own  neck  down. 

Queen.  Be  thou   assured,   if  words  be  made   of 
breath 
And  breath  of  life,  I  have  no  life  to  breathe 
What  thou  hast  said  to  me. 

Ham.  I  must  to  England;  you  know  that? 

Queen.  Alack,       200 

I  had  forgot:  'tis  so  concluded  on. 

Ham.  There  's  letters  seal'd :  and  my  two  school- 
fellows, 
Whom  I  will  trust  as  I  will  adders  f  ang'd, 

199.  "What  thou  hast  said  to  me";  "I  confess,"  says  Coleridge, 
"that  Shakespeare  has  left  the  character  of  the  Queen  in  an  un- 
pleasant perplexity.  Was  she,  or  was  she  not,  conscious  of  the 
fratricide?"  This  "perplexity,"  whatever  it  be,  was  doubtless  de- 
signed by  the  Poet;  for  in  the  original  form  of  the  play  she  stood 
perfectly  clear  on  this  score;  as  appears  from  several  passages  in  the 
quarto  of  1603,  which  were  afterwards  disciplined  out  of  the  text. 
Thus,  in  one  place  of  this  scene,  she  says  to  Hamlet, — 

"But,  as  I  have  a  soul,  I  swear  to  Heaven, 
I  never  knew  of  this  most  horrid  murder." 

And  in  this  place  she  speaks  thus: 

"Hamlet,  I  vow  by  that  Majesty, 
That  knows  our  thoughts  and  looks  into  our  hearts, 
I  will  conceal,  consent,  and  do  my  best. 
What  stratagem  soe'er  thou  shalt  devise." — H.  N.  H. 
125 


Act  III.  Sc.  iv.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

They  bear  the  mandate;  they  must  sweep  my 

way, 
And  marshal  me  to  knavery.     Let  it  work ; 
For  'tis  the  sport  to  have  the  enginer 
Hoist  with  his  own  petar :  and  't  shall  go  hard 
But  I  will  delve  one  yard  below  their  mines, 
And   blow   them  at  the  moon:    O,    'tis   most 

sweet 
When  in  one  line  two  crafts  directly  meet.     210 
This  man  shall  set  me  packing: 
I  '11  lug  the  guts  into  the  neighbor  room. 
Mother,  good  night.     Indeed  this  counselor 
Is  now  most  still,  most  secret  and  most  grave, 
Who  was  in  life  a  foolish  prating  knave. 
Come,  sir,  to  draw  toward  an  end  with  you. 
Good  night,  mother. 
[Exeunt  severally;  Hamlet  dragging  in  Polonius. 


126 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act.  iv.  Sc.  i. 


ACT  FOURTH 
Scene  I 

A  room  in  the  castle. 

Enter  Kingj,  Queen,  RosencrantZj  and 
Guildenstern. 

King.  There  's  matter  in  these   sighs,  these  pro- 
found heaves : 
You  must  translate :  'tis  fit  we  understand  them. 
Where  is  your  son? 

Queen.  Bestow  this  place  on  us  a  little  while. 

[Exeunt  Rosencrantz  and  Guildenstern. 
Ah,  mine  own  lord,  what  have  I  seen  to-night! 

King.  What,  Gertrude?     How  does  Hamlet? 

Queen.  Mad  as  the  sea  and  wind,  when  both  con- 
tend 
Which  is  the  mightier:  in  his  lawless  fit, 
Behind  the  arras  hearing  something  stir. 
Whips  out  his  rapier,  cries  'A  rat,  a  rat!'       10 
And  in  this  brainish  apprehension  kills 
The  unseen  good  old  man. 

King.  O  heavy  deed! 

It  had  been  so  with  us,  had  we  been  there: 
His  liberty  is  full  of  threats  to  all, 
To  you  yourself,  to  us,  to  every  one. 

4.  Omitted  in  Ff.— I.  G, 
127 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

Alas,  how  shall  this  bloody  deed  be  answer'd? 
It  will  be  laid  to  us,  whose  providence 
Should  have  kept  short,  restrained  and  out  of 

haunt. 
This  mad  young  man:  but  so  much  was  our 

love. 
We  would  not  understand  what  was  most  fit,  20 
But,  like  the  owner  of  a  foul  disease, 
To  keep  it  from  divulging,  let  it  feed 
Even  on  the  pith  of  life.     Where  is  he  gone? 

Queen.  To  draw  apart  the  body  he  hath  kill'd: 
O'er  whom  his  very  madness,  like  some  ore 
Among  a  mineral  of  metals  base, 
Shows  itself  pure;  he  weeps  for  what  is  done. 

King.  O  Gertrude,  come  away ! 

The  sun  no  sooner  shall  the  mountains  touch. 
But  we  will  ship  him  hence:  and  this  vile  deed 
We  must,  with  all  our  majesty  and  skill,       31 
Both  countenance  and  excuse.     Ho,  Guilden- 
stern ! 

Re-enter  Rosencrantz  and  Ghiildenstern. 

Friends  both,  go  join  j^ou  with  some  further 

aid: 
Hamlet  in  madness  hath  Polonius  slain, 
And  from  his  mother's  closet  hath  he  dragg'd 

him: 
Go  seek  him  out;  speak  fair,  and  bring  the 

bodjT^ 
Into  the  chapel.     I  pray  you,  haste  in  this. 

[Exeunt  Rosencrantz  and  Guildensteni, 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  iv.  So.  ii. 

Come,    Gertrude,    we  '11    call    up    our    wisest 

friends; 
And  let  them  know,  both  what  we  mean  to  do, 
And  what 's  untimely  done.     ...  40 

Whose  whisper  o'er  the  world's  diameter 
As  level  as  the  cannon  to  his  blank 
Transports  his   poison'd   shot,   may   miss   our 

name 
And  hit  the  woundless  air.     O,  come  away! 
My  soul  is  full  of  discord  and  dismay.  [Exeunt 


Scene  II 

Another  room  in  the  castle. 

Enter  Hamlet. 

Ham,  Safely  stowed. 

C   ']   \     [JVithin^  Hamlet!  Lord  Hamlet. 

Ham.  But  soft,  what  noise?  who  calls  on  Ham- 
let? 
O,  here  they  come. 

Enter  Rosencrantz  and  Guildenstern. 

Ros.  What  have  you  done,  my  lord,  with  the  dead 

body? 
Ham.  Compounded  it  with  dust,  whereto  'tis  kin. 

40-44.  F.  1  omits  these  lines,  and  ends  scene  with  the  words — 
"And  what's  untimely  done.     Oh,  come  away, 
My  soul  is  full  of  discord  and  dismay." 

Theobald  proposed  to  restore  the  line  by  adding  "for,  haply,  slander." 
—I.  G. 

XX-9  129 


Act  IV.  Sc.  ii.  TRAGEDY  OF  HA^ILET 

Ros.  Tell  us  where  'tis,  that  we  may  take  it  thence 
And  bear  it  to  the  chapel. 

Ham.  Do  not  believe  it. 

Ros.  Believe  what?  10 

Ham.  That  I  can  keep  your  counsel  and  not 
mine  own.  Besides,  to  be  demanded  of  a 
sponge!  what  replication  should  be  made  by 
the  son  of  a  king? 

Ros.  Take  you  me  for  a  sponge,  my  lord? 

Hani.  Aye,  sir;  that  soaks  up  the  king's  coun- 
tenance, his  rewards,  his  authorities.  But 
such  officers  do  the  king  best  service  in  the 
end :  he  keeps  them,  like  an  ape,  in  the  corner 
of  his  jaw;  first  mouthed,  to  be  last  swal-  20 
lowed:  when  he  needs  what  you  have 
gleaned,  it  is  but  squeezing  you,  and,  sponge, 
you  shall  be  dry  again. 

Ros.  I  understand  you  not,  my  lord. 

Ham.  I  am  glad  of  it :  a  knavish  speech  sleeps 
in  a  foolish  ear. 

Ros.  My  lord,  you  must  tell  us  where  the  body 
is,  and  go  with  us  to  the  king. 

Ham.  The  body  is  with  the  king,  but  the  king 
is  not  with  the  body.     The  king  is  a  thing —   3a 

Gull.  A  thing,  my  lord? 

Ham.  Of  nothing:  bring  me  to  him.  Hide 
fox,  and  all  after.  [Exeunt. 

19.  "like  an  ape";  so  Ff.;  Qq.,  "like  an  apple";  Farmer  conj.  "like 
an  ape,  an  apple";  Singer,  from  Q.  1,  "like  an  ape  doth  nuts" ;  Hud- 
son  (1879),  "as  an  ape  doth  nuts." — I.  G. 

^5.  "A  knavish  speech  sleeps  in  a  foolish  ear";  a  sentence  pro- 
verbial since  Shakespeare's  time,  but  not  known  earlier.— I.  G. 

32.  cp.  Psalm  cxliv.,  "Man  /.s-  like  a  thing  of  nxiught" ;  32-33,  "Hide 
fox,  and  all  after,"  the  reading  of  Ff. ;  omitted  in  Qq. — I.  G. 

130 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  iv.  Sc.  m. 

Scene  III 

Another  room  in  the  castle. 

Enter  King-,  attended. 

King.  I  have  sent  to  seek  him,  and  to  find  the  body. 
How  dangerous  is  it  that  this  man  goes  loose! 
Yet  must  not  we  put  the  strong  law  on  him: 
He  's  loved  of  the  distracted  multitude, 
Who  like  not  in  their  judgment,  but  their  eyes; 
And  where   'tis  so,  the  offender's   scourge  is 

weigh'd, 
But  never  the  offense.     To  bear  all  smooth  and 

even, 
This  sudden  sending  away  must  seem 
Deliberate  pause:  diseases  desperate  grown 
By  desperate  appliance  are  relieved,  1^ 

Or  not  at  all. 

Enter  Rosencrantz. 

How  now!  what  hath  befall'n? 
^06'.  Where  the  dead  body  is  bestow'd,  my  lord. 

We  cannot  get  from  him. 
King.  But  where  is  he? 

Ros.  Without,  my  lord;  guarded,  to  know  your 

pleasure. 
King.  Bring  him  before  us. 
Ros.  Ho,  Guildenstern !  bring  in  my  lord. 

Enter  Hamlet  and  Guildenstern. 

King,  Now,  Hamlet,  where  's  Polonius? 

131 


Act  IV.  Sc.  iii.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

Ham.  At  supper. 

King.  At  supper!  where? 

Ham.  Not  where  he  eats,  but  where  he  is  eaten :  20 
a  certain  convocation  of  pubhc  worms  are 
e'en  at  him.  Your  worm  is  your  only  em- 
peror for  (Het:  we  fat  all  creatures  else  to 
fat  us,  and  we  fat  ourselves  for  maggots: 
your  fat  king  and  your  lean  beggar  is  but 
variable  service,  two  dishes,  but  to  one  table : 
that 's  the  end. 

King.  Alas,  alas! 

Ham.  A  man  may  fish  with  the  worm  that  hath 
eat  of  a  king,  and  eat  of  the  fish  that  hath   30 
fed  of  that  worm. 

King.  What  dost  thou  mean  by  this? 

Ham.  Nothing  but  to  show  you  how  a  king 
may  go  a  progress  through  the  guts  of  a 
beggar. 

King.  Where  is  Polonius? 

Ham.  In  heaven;  send  thither  to  see:  if  your 
messenger  find  him  not  there,  seek  him  i'  the 
other  place  yourself.  But  indeed,  if  you 
find  him  not  within  this  month,  you  shall  40 
nose  him  as  you  go  up  the  stairs  into  the 
lobby. 

King.  Go  seek  him  there.     [To  some  Attendants. 

Ham.  He  will  stay  till  you  come. 

[Exeunt  Attendants^ 

21-23.  There    is    a    punning    allusion    to    the    Diet    of    Worms,'^ 
C.  H.  H. 

28-31.  Omitted  in  Ff.— I.  G. 

29-30.  Probably  pure  mystification.— C.  H.  H. 

132 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  IV.  Sc.  iii. 

King.  Hamlet,  this  deed,  for  thine  especial  safety, 
Which  we  do  tender,  as  we  dearly  grieve 
For  that  which  thou  hast  done,  must  send  thee 

hence 
With  fiery  quickness:  therefore  prepare  thy- 
self; 
The  bark  is  ready  and  the  wind  at  help, 
The  associates  tend,  and  every  thing  is  bent   50 
For  England. 
Ham.  For  England? 

King,  Aye,  Hamlet. 

Ham.  Good. 

King.  So  is  it,  if  thou  knew'st  our  purposes. 
Ham.  I   see   a   cherub   that   sees   them.     But, 
come ;  for  England !  Farewell,  dear  mother. 
King.  Thy  loving  father,  Hamlet. 
Ham.  My  mother:  father  and  mother  is  man 
and  wife ;  man  and  wife  is  one  flesh,  and  so, 
my  mother.     Come,  for  England!  [^Exit. 

King.  Follow  him  at  foot;  tempt  him  with  speed 
abroad ; 
Delay  it  not;  I  '11  have  him  hence  to-night:    60 
Away !  for  every  thing  is  seal'd  and  done 
That  else  leans  on  the  affair:  pray  you,  make 
haste.  1_ 

[Exeunt  Bfisencrantz  and  Gruildenstern.    * 
And,    England,   if   my    love   thou    hold'st    at 

aught — 
As  my  great  power  thereof  may  give  thee  sense, 

45.  "this  deed,  for  thine";  so  Qq. ;  Ff.,  "deed  of  thine,  for  thine." 
—I.  G. 

49.  "with  fiery  quickness" ;  so  Ff.;  omitted  in  Qq. — I.  G. 

133 


Act  IV.  Sc.  iv.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

Since  yet  thy  cicatrice  looks  raw  and  red 
After  the  Danish  sword,  and  thy  free  awe 
Pays  homage  to  us — thou  mayst  not  coldly  set 
Our  sovereign  process;  which  imports  at  full, 
By  letters  congruing  to  that  effect, 
The  present  death  of  Hamlet.       Do  it,  Eng- 
land; 70 
For  like  the  hectic  in  my  blood  he  rages, 
And  thou  must  cure  me;  till  I  know  'tis  done, 
Howe'er  my  haps,  my  joys  were  ne'er  begun. 

[Ea^it. 

Scene  IV 

A  plain  in  Denmark. 

Enter  Fortinhras,  a  Captain  and  Soldiers^ 
marching. 

For.  Go,  captain,  from  me  greet  the  Danish  king ; 
Tell  him  that  by  his  license  Fortinhras 
Craves  the  conveyance  of  a  promised  march 
Over  his  kingdom.     You  know  the  rendezvous. 
If  that  his  majesty  would  aught  with  us, 
We  shall  express  our  duty  in  his  eye; 

73.  "my  haps,  my  joys  irere  ne'er  begun";  so  Ff. ;  Qq.,  "my  haps, 
my  joyes  will  nere  begin";  Johnson  conj^  "my  hopes,  my  joys  are 
not  begun";  Heath  conj.  " 't  may  hap,  my  joys  will  ne'er  begin"; 
Collier  MS.,  "my  hopes,  my  joyes  were  ne're  begun";  Tschischwitz, 
"my  joys  will  ne'er  begun." — I.  G. 

3.  "Craves";  so  Qq.;  Ff.  1,  2,  "Claimes/'—l.  G. 

.6.  "express  our  duty  in  his  eye";  in  the  Regulations  for  the  Estab- 
lishment of  the  Queen's  Household,  1627:  "All  such  as  doe  service 
in  the  queen's  eye."  And  in  The  Establishment  of  Prince  Henry's 
Household,  1610:  "All  such  as  doe  service  in  the  prince's  eye." — 
H.  N.  H. 

134 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  IV.  Sc.  iv. 

And  let  him  know  so. 
Cap.  I  will  do  't,  my  lord. 

For,  Go  softly  on. 

[Exeunt  Fortinhras  and  Soldiers. 

Enter  Hamlet,  Rosencrantz,  Guildenstern, 
and  others. 

Ham.  Good  sir,  whose  powers  are  these? 

Cap.  They  are  of  Noi'way,  sir.  10 

Ham.  How  purposed,  sir,  I  pray  you? 

Cap.  Against  some  part  of  Poland. 

Ham.  Who  commands  them,  sir? 

Cap.  The  nephew  to  old  Norway,  Fortinhras. 

Ham.  Goes  it  against  the  main  of  Poland,  sir, 
Or  for  some  frontier? 

Cap.  Truly  to  speak,  and  with  no  addition. 
We  go  to  gain  a  little  patch  of  ground 
That  hath  in  it  no  profit  but  the  name. 
To  pay  five  ducats,  five,  I  would  not  farm  it ;  20 
Nor  will  it  jaeld  to  Norway  or  the  Pole 
A  ranker  rate,  should  it  be  sold  in  fee. 

Ham.  Why,  then  the  Polack  never  will  defend  it. 

Cap.  Yes,  it  is  already  garrison'd. 

Ham.  Two  thousand  souls  and  twenty  thousand 
ducats 
Will  not  debate  the  question  of  this  straw: 
This  is  the  imposthume  of  much  wealth  and 

peace. 
That  inward  breaks,  and  shows  no  cause  without 
Why  the  man  dies.     I  humbly  thank  you,  sir. 

8.  "Oo  softly  on";  these  words  are  probably  spoken  to  the  troops. 
The  folio  has  safely  instead  of  softly. — H.  N.  H. 
9-66.  the  reading  of  the  Qq. ;  omitted  in  Ff. — I.  G. 

135 


Act  IV.  Sc.  iv.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

Cap.  God  be  wi'  you,  sir.  [Eocit. 

Ros.  Will  't  please  you  go,  my  lord? 

Hain.  I  '11  be  with  you  straight.     Go  a  little  be- 
fore. '^^ 
[^Exeunt  all  hut  Hamlet. 
How  all  occasions  do  inform  against  me. 
And  spur  my  dull  revenge !     What  is  a  man, 
If  his  chief  good  and  market  of  his  time 
Be  but  to  sleep  and  feed?  a  beast,  no  more. 
Sure,  he  that  made  us  with  such  large  discourse, 
Looking  before  and  after,  gave  us  not 
That  capability  and  god-like  reason 
To  fust  in  us  unused.     Now,  whether  it  be 
Bestial  oblivion,  or  some  craven  scruple        40 
Of  thinking  too  precisely  on  the  event, — 
A  thought  which,  quarter' d,  hath  but  one  part 

wisdom 
And  ever  three  parts  coward, — I  do  not  know 
Why  yet  I  live  to  say  'this  thing  's  to  do,' 
Sith  I  have  cause,  and  will,  and  strength,  and 

means, 
To  do  't.     Examples  gross  as  earth  exhort  me : 
Witness  this  army,  of  such  mass  and  charge, 
Led  by  a  delicate  and  tender  prince. 
Whose  spirit  with  divine  ambition  puff 'd 
INIakes  mouths  at  the  invisible  event,  50 

Exposing  M'hat  is  mortal  and  unsure 
To  all  that  fortune,  death  and  danger  dare, 
Even  for  an  egg-shell.     Rightly  to  be  great 
It  not  to  stir  without  great  argument. 
But  greatly  to  find  quarrel  in  a  straw 

50.  "Makes  mouths  at" :  mocks  at. — C.  H.  H, 
136 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  iv.  Sc.  v. 

When  honor  's  at  the  stake.     How  stand  I  then, 
That  have  a  father  kill'd,  a  mother  stain'd, 
Excitements  of  my  reason  and  my  blood, 
And  let  all  sleep,  while  to  my  shame  I  see 
The  imminent  death  of  twenty  thousand  men,  60 
That  for  a  fantasy  and  trick  of  frame 
Go  to  their  graves  like  beds,  fight  for  a  plot 
Whereon  the  numbers  cannot  try  the  cause, 
Which  is  not  tomb  enough  and  continent 
To  hide  the  slain?     O,  from  this  time  forth. 
My  thoughts  be  bloody,  or  be  nothing  worth! 


Scene  V 

Elsinore.    A  roorn  in  the  castle. 

Enter  Queen,  Horatio,  and  a  Gentleman. 

Queen.  I  will  not  speak  with  her. 

Gent.  She  is  importunate,  indeed  distract: 

Her  mood  will  needs  be  pitied. 
Queen.  What  would  she  have  J 

Gent.  She  speaks  much  of  her  father,   says  she 
hears 
There  's  tricks  i'  the  world,  and  hems  and  beats 

her  heart. 
Spurns  enviously  at  straws;  speaks  things  in 

doubt, 
That  carry  but  half  sense :  her  speech  is  nothing, 
Yet  the  unshaped  use  of  it  doth  move 
The  hearers  to  collection ;  they  aim  at  it, 
J  37 


Act  IV.  Sc.  V.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

Aiid   botch    the    words   up   fit   to    theh'    own 

thoughts ;  10 

Which,  as  her  winks  and  nods  and  gestures  jaeld 

them, 
Indeed  would  make  one  think  there  might  be 

thought, 
Though  nothing  sure,  yet  much  unhappily. 
Hor.  'Twere  good  she  were  sj)oken  with,  for  she 

may  strew 
Dangerous  conjectures  in  ill-breeding  minds. 
Queen.  Let  her  come  in.  [Exit  Gentleman. 

\_Aside^   To  my  sick  soul,  as  sin's  true  nature  is. 
Each  toy  seems  prologue  to  some  great  amiss : 
So  full  of  artless  jealousy  is  guilt, 
It  spills  itself  in  fearing  to  be  spilt.  20 

Re-enter  Gentleman,  with  Ophelia. 

Oph.  Where  is  the  beauteous  majesty  of  Den- 
mark ? 
Queen.  How  now,  Ophelia! 

Oph.   [Singsl   How  should  I  your  true  love  know 
From  another  one  ? 
By  his  cockle  hat  and  staff 
And  his  sandal  shoon. 

Queen.  Alas,  sweet  lady,  what  imports  this  song? 

13.  "Unhappily"  is  here  used  in  the  sense  of  mischievously. — 
H.  N.  H. 

14—16;  Qq.  and  Ff.  assign  these  lines  to  Horatio;  Blackstone  re- 
arranged the  lines  as  in  the  text. — I.  G. 

2'-2.  "Ophelia";  in  the  quarto  of  1603,  this  stage-direction  is  curious 
as  showing  that  Ophelia  was  originally  made  to  play  an  accompani- 
ment to  her  singing.  It  reads  thus:  "Enter  Ophelia,  playing  on  a 
lute,  and  her  hair  down,  singing." — H.   N.  H. 

1S8 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  iv.  Sc.  v. 

Oph.  Say  you?  nay,  pray  you,  mark. 

\^Sings']     He  is  dead  and  gone,  lady, 

He  is  dead  and  gone;  30 

At  his  head  a  grass-green  turf. 
At  his  heels  a  stone. 
Oh,  oh! 
Queen.  Nay,  but  Ophelia, — 

Oph.  Pray  you,  mark. 

[^Singsl  White    his    shroud    as   the   mountain 
snow, — 

Enter  King. 

Queen.  Alas,  look  here,  my  lord. 

Oph.  \^Sings~\  Larded  with  sweet  flowers; 

Which  bewept  to  the  grave  did  go 
With  true-love  showers. 

King.  How  do  you,  pretty  lady?  40 

Oph.  Well,  God  'ild  you!     They  say  the  owl 
was  a  baker's  daughter.     Lord,  we  know 

33.  Nay,  hut  Ophelia";  "There  is  no  part  of  this  play  in  its  rep- 
resentation on  the  stage  more  pathetic  than  this  scene;  which,  I 
suppose,  proceeds  from  the  utter  insensibility  Ophelia  has  to  her  own 
misfortunes.  A  great  sensibilitj',  or  none  at  all,  seems  to  produce 
the  same  effects.  In  the  latter  case  the  audience  supply  what  is 
wanting,  and  with  the  former  they  sympathize"  (Sir  J.  Reynolds). — 
H.  N.  H. 

38.  "grave"  so  Q.  1,  Ff.;  Qq.,  "ground";  "did  go";  Pope's  emenda- 
tion of  Qq.;  Ff.,  "did  not  go."— I.  G. 

41.  "The  owl  was  a  baker's  daughter" ;  this  is  said  to  be  a  com- 
mon tradition  in  Gloucestershire.  Mr.  Douce  relates  it  thus:  "Our 
Saviour  went  into  a  baker's  shop  where  they  were  baking,  and  asked 
for  some  bread  to  eat.  The  mistress  of  the  shop  immediately  put  a 
piece  of  dough  in  the  oven  to  bake  for  him;  but  was  reprimanded 
by  her  daughter,  who,  insisting  that  the  piece  of  dough  was  too 
large,  reduced  it  to  a  very  small  size.  The  dough,  however,  imme- 
diately began  to  swell,  and  presently  became  of  a  most  enormous  size, 

13P 


Act  IV.  Sc.  V.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

what  \\e  are,  but  know  not  what  we  may  be. 

God  be  at  your  table! 
King.  Conceit  upon  her  father. 
Oph.  Pray  you,  let's  have  no  words  of  this; 

but  when  they  ask  you  what  it  means,  say 

you  this: 

\_Sings^  To-morrow  is  Saint  Valentine's  day 

All  in  the  morning  betime,  50 

And  I  a  maid  at  your  window, 

To  be  your  Valentine. 
Then  up  he  rose,  and  donn'd  his  clothes, 

And  dupp'd  the  chamber-door; 
Let  in  the  maid,  that  out  a  maid 

Never  departed  more. 

King.  Pretty  Ophelia! 

Oph.  Indeed,  la,  without  an  oath,  I  '11  make  an 
end  on  't : 

Whereupon  the  baker's  daughter  cried  out,  'Heugh,  heugh,  heugh,' 
which  owl-like  noise  probably  induced  our  Sanour  to  transform 
her  into  that  bird  for  her  wickedness."  The  story  is  told  to  deter 
children  from  illiberal  behavior  to  the  poor. — H.  N.  H. 

49-56.  Song  in  Qq.;  omitted  in  Ff.— I.  G. 

49.  "Saint  Valentine's  daj/";  the  origin  of  the  choosing  of  Valen- 
tines has  not  been  clearly  developed.  Mr.  Douce  traces  it  to  a  Pagan 
custom  of  the  same  kind  during  the  Lupercalia  feasts  in  honor  of 
Pan  and  Juno,  celebrated  in  the  month  of  February  by  the  Romans. 
The  anniversary  of  the  good  bishop,  or  Saint  Valentine,  happening 
in  this  month,  the  pious  early  promoters  of  Christianity  placed  this 
popular  custom  under  the  patronage  of  the  saint,  in  order  to  eradi- 
cate the  notion  of  its  pagan  origin.  In  France  the  Valantin  was  a 
movable  feast,  celebrated  on  the  first  Sunday  in  Lent,  which  was 
called  the  jovr  des  brandons,  because  the  boys  carried  about  lighted 
torches  on  that  day.  It  is  very  probable  that  the  saint  has  nothing 
to  do  with  the  custom;  his  legend  gives  no  clue  to  any  such  supposi- 
tion. The  popular  notion  that  the  birds  choose  their  mates  about 
this  period  has  its  rise  in  the  poetical  world  of  fiction. — H.  N.  H. 

140 


PRIXCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  iv.  Sc.  v. 

[Sings]  By  Gis  and  bj^  Saint  Charity,  60 

Alack,  and  fie  for  shame! 

Young  men  will  do  't,  if  they  come  to  t; 
By  cock,  they  are  to  blame. 

Quoth  she,  before  you  tumbled  me, 
You  promised  me  to  wed. 

He  answers : 

So  would  I  ha'  done,  by  yonder  sun. 
An  thou  hadst  not  come  to  my  bed. 

King.  How  long  hath  she  been  thus? 
Oph.  I   hope  all  will   be   well.     We  must  be    70 
patient:  but  I  cannot  choose  but  weep,  to 
think  they  should  lay  him  i'  the  cold  ground. 
iSIy  brother  shall  know  of  it :  and  so  I  thank 
you    for    your    good    counsel.     Come,    my 
coach!     Good    night,    ladies;    good    night, 
sweet  ladies;  good  night,  good  night.       \_EiVit. 
King.  Follow  her  close;  give  her  good  watch, 

I  pray  you.  [ElvH  Horatio. 

O,  this  is  the  poison  of  deep  grief;  it  springs 
All    from    her    father's    death.     O    Gertrude, 

Gertrude, 
When    sorrows    come,    they    come    not    single 

spies,  80 

But  in  battalions!     First,  her  father  slain: 
Next,  your  son  gone ;  and  he  most  violent  author 
Of  his  own  just  remove:  the  people  muddied, 
Thick  and  unwholesome  in  their  thoughts  and 

whispers, 

79.  "Death,  O";  Qq.,  "death,  and  now  behold,  e."—l.  G. 
141 


Act  IV.  Sc.  V.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

For  good  Polonius'  death;  and  wc  have  done 

but  greenly, 
In  hugger-mugger  to  inter  him:  poor  OpheHa 
Divided  from  herself  and  her  fair  judgment, 
Without  the  which  we  are  pictures,  or  mere 

beasts : 
Last,  and  as  much  containing  as  all  these, 
Her  brother  is  In  secret  come  from  France,     90 
Feeds  on  his  wonder,  keeps  himself  in  clouds, 
And  wants  not  buzzers  to  infect  his  ear 
With  pestilent  speeches  of  his  father's  death; 
Wherein  necessity,  of  matter  beggar'd. 
Will  nothing  stick  our  person  to  arraign 
In  ear  and  ear.     O  my  dear  Gertrude,  this, 
Like  to  a  murdering-piece,  in  many  places 
Gives  me  superfluous  death.     [A  noise  within. 

Queen.  Alack,  what  noise  is  this? 

King.  Where  are  my  Switzers?     Let  them  guard 
the  door. 

Enter  another  Gentleman. 

What  is  the  matter? 
Gent.  Save  yoiu'self ,  my  lord :     lOO 

The  ocean,  overpeering  of  his  list, 
Eats  not  the  flats  with  more  impetuous  haste 
Than  young  Laertes,  in  a  riotous  head, 
O'erbears  your  officers.     The  rabble  call  him 
lord ; 

91.  "Feeds  on  his  wonder";  Johnson's  emendation;  Qq.,  "Feeds 
on  this  wonder";  Ff.,  "Keepes  on  his  wonder";  Hanmer,  "Feeds  on 
his  anger  "—I.  G. 

96.  "Alack,  what  noise  is  this";  omitted  in  Qq. — I.  G. 

142 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  iv.  So.  v. 

And,  as  the  world  were  now  but  to  begin, 
Antiquity  forgot,  custom  not  known, 
The  ratifiers  and  props  of  every  word, 
They  cry  'Choose  we;  Laertes  shall  be  king!' 
Caps,   hands   and  tongues   applaud   it   to   the 

clouds, 
'Laertes  shall  be  king,  Laertes  king!'  HO 

Queen.  How  cheerfully  on  the  false  trail  they  cry! 
O,  this  is  counter,  you  false  Danish  dogs! 

[Noise  within. 

King.  The  doors  are  broke. 

Enter  Laertes,  armed;  Danes  following. 

Laer.  Where   is  this   king?     Sirs,   stand  you   all 

without. 
Danes.  No,  let 's  come  in. 

Laer.  I  pray  you,  give  me  leave. 

Danes.  We  will,  we  will. 

[They  retire  without  the  door. 
Laer.  I  thank  you:  keep  the  door.     O  thou  vile 
king. 
Give  me  my  father! 
Queen.  Calmly,  good  Laertes. 

Laer.  That  drop  of  blood  that 's  calm  proclaims  me 
bastard;  119 

Cries  cuckold  to  my  father;  brands  the  harlot 
Even  here,  between  the  chaste  unsmirched  brows 
Of  my  true  mother. 

105.  "as  the  world";  as  has  here  the  force  of  as  if.  The  explana- 
tion sometimes  given  of  the  passage  is,  that  the  rabble  are  the 
ratifiers  and  props  of  every  idle  word.  The  plain  sense  is,  that 
antiquity  and  custom  are  the  ratifiers  and  projis  of  every  sotind 
word  touching  the  matter  in  hand,  the  ordering  of  human  society 
and  the  State.— H.  N,  H. 

143 


Act  IV.  Sc.  V.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

King.  What  is  the  cause,  Laertes, 

That  thy  rebellion  looks  so  giant-like? 
Let  him  go,  Gertrude;  do  not  fear  our  person: 
There  's  such  divinity  doth  hedge  a  king. 
That  treason  can  but  peep  to  what  it  would. 
Acts  little  of  his  will.     Tell  me,  Laertes, 
Why    thou    art    thus    incensed:    let    him    go, 

Gertrude : 
Speak,  man. 

Laer.  Where  is  my  father? 

King.  Dead. 

Queen.  But  not  by  him.     130 

King.  Let  him  demand  his  fill. 

Laer.  How  came  he  dead?     I  '11  not  be  juggled 
with : 
To  hell,  allegiance!  vows,  to  the  blackest  devil! 
Conscience  and  grace,  to  the  profoundest  pit! 
I  dare  damnation :  to  this  point  I  stand. 
That  both  the  worlds  I  give  to  negligence. 
Let  come  what  comes ;  only  I  '11  be  revenged 
Most  throughly  for  my  father. 

King.  Who  shall  stay  you  ? 

Laer.  My  will,  not  all  the  world: 

And  for  my  means,  I  '11  husband  them  so  well. 
They  shall  go  far  with  little.  141 

King.  Good  Laertes, 

If  you  desire  to  know  the  certainty 

121.  "unsmirched  brows";  Grant  White's  emendation;  F.  1,  "«»- 
smirched  brow." — I.  G. 

127.  "Acts  little  of  his  will";  "Proofs,"  says  Coleridge,  "as  indeed 
all  else  is,  that  Shakespeare  never  intended  lis  to  see  the  King  with 
Hamlet's  eyes;  though,  I  suspect,  the  managers  have  long  done  so," 
— H.  N.  H. 

144. 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK        .      Act  iv.  Sc.  v. 

Of  your  dear  father's  death,  is  't  writ  in  your  re- 
venge 

That,  swoopstake,  you  will  draw  both  friend 
and  foe, 

Winner  and  loser? 
haer.  None  but  his  enemies. 

King.  Will  you  know  them  then? 

Laer.  To  his  good  friends  thus  wide  I  '11  ope  my 
arms ; 

And,  like  the  kind  life-rendering  pelican, 

Repast  them  with  my  blood. 
King.  Why,  now  you  speak 

Like  a  good  child  and  a  true  gentleman.        150 

That  I  am  guiltless  of  your  father's  death, 

And  am  most  sensibly  in  grief  for  it, 

It  shall  as  level  to  your  judgment  pierce 

As  day  does  to  your  eye. 
Danes.  \_lVithin'\  Let  her  come  in. 

Laer.  How  now!  what  noise  is  that? 

Re-enter  Ophelia. 

O  heat,  dry  up  my  brains !  tears  seven  times  salt. 
Burn  out  the  sense  and  virtue  of  mine  eye ! 
By  heaven,   thy   madness   shall   be   paid  with 

weight. 
Till  our  scale  turn  the  beam.     O  rose  of  May! 

153.  "your  judgment  pierce";  the  folio  has  pierce;  the  quartos, 
pear,  meaning,  of  course,  appear.  The  latter  is  both  awkward  in 
language  and  tame  in  sense.  Understanding  level  in  the  sense  of 
direct,  pierce  gives  an  apt  and  clear  enough  meaning. — H.   N.  H. 

156.  "Re-enter  Ophelia";  modern  editions  commonly  add  here, 
"fantastically  dressed  with  Straws  and  Flowers."  There  is  no  au- 
thority, and  not  much  occasion,  for  any  such  stage-direction. — 
H.  N.  H. 

XX— 10  145 


Act  IV.  Sc.  vX        TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

Dear  maid,  kind  sister,  sweet  Ophelia!  160 

O  heavens !  is  't  possible  a  young  maid's  wits 
Should  be  as  mortal  as  an  old  man's  life? 
Nature  is  fine  in  love,  and  where  'tis  fine 
It  sends  some  precious  instance  of  itself 
After  the  thing  it  loves. 
Oph.  \^Sings']  They   bore   him  barefaced  on   the 
bier: 
Hey  non  nonny,  nonny,  hey  nonny: 
And  in   his   grave  rained   many   a 
tear, — 
Fare  you  well,  my  dove ! 
L,aer,  Hadst  thou  thy  wits,  and  didst  persuade  re- 
venge, I'^O 
It  could  not  move  thus;, 
Oph.  [^Sings]  You  must  sing  down  a-down,  \ 
An  you  call  him  a-down-a. 
O,  how  the  wheel  becomes  it !     It  is  the  false 
steward,  that  stole  his  master's  daughter. 
Laer.  This  nothing  's  more  than  matter. 
Oph,  There 's    rosemary,    that 's    for    remem- 

162-165,  167,  omitted  in  Qq.— I.  G. 

168.  "rain'd";  so  Qq.;  Ff.  1,  2,  "raines."—!.  G. 

174-175.  "It  is  the  false  steward,"  &c.;  the  story  has  not  yet  been 
identified. — I.  G. 

177.  "There's  rosemary" ;  our  ancestors  gave  to  almost  every 
flower  and  plant  its  emblematic  meaning,  and,  like  the  ladies  of  the 
east,  made  them  almost  as  expressive  as  written  language.  Perdita, 
in  The  Winter's  Tale,  distributes  her  flowers  in  the  same  manner  as 
Ophelia,  and  some  of  them  with  the  same  meaning.  The  Handfull  of 
Pleasant  Delites,  1584,  has  a  ballad  called  "A  Nosegaie  alwaies 
sweet  for  Lovers  to  send  for  Tokens,"  where  we  find, — 

"Rosemarie  is  for  remembrance 
Betweene  us  day  and  night." 

Rosemarie  had  this  attribute  because  it  was  said  to  strengthen  the 

146 


S3 


O   0)   o 


..■o  55 


8|| 

o  — 


■5.^  £ 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  I  v.  Sc.  v. 

brance:  pray  you,  love,  remember:  and  there 
is  pansies,  that 's  for  thoughts. 

Laer.  A  document  in  madness ;  thoughts  and  180 
remembrance  fitted. 

Oph.  There  's  fennel  for  you,  and  columbines : 
there  's  rue  for  you :  and  here  's  some  for  me : 
we  may  call  it  herb  of  grace  o'  Sundays :  O, 
you  must  wear  your  rue  with  a  difference. 
There  's  a  daisy :  I  would  give  you  some 
violets,  but  they  withered  all  when  father 
died:  they  say  a'  made  a  good  end, — 
[^Sings']  For  bonnie  sweet  Robin  is  all  my 
joy.  _  190 

Laer.  Thought  and  affliction,  passion,  hell  itself. 
She  turns  to  favor  and  to  prettiness. 

memory,  and  was  therefore  used  as  a  token  of  remembrance  and 
affection  between  lovers.  Why  pansies  (pensees)  are  emblems  of 
thoughts  is  obvious.  Fennel  was  emblematic  of  flattery.  Browne, 
in  his  Britannia's  Pastorals,  says, — 

"The  columbine,  in  tawny  often  taken, 
Is  then  ascrib'd  to  such  as  are  forsaken." 

Rue  was  for  ruth  or  repentance.  It  was  also  commonly  called 
herb  grace,  probably  from  being  accounted  "a  present  remedy 
against  all  poison,  and  a  potent  auxiliary  in  exorcisms,  all  evil 
things  fleeing  from  it."  Wearing  it  with  a  difference  was  an  her- 
aldic term  for  a  mark  of  distinction.  The  daisy  was  emblematic 
of  a  dissembler.  The  violet  is  for  faithftdness,  and  is  thus  char- 
acterized in  The  Lover's  Nosegaie. — H.  N.  H. 

100.  Poor  Ophelia  in  her  madness  remembers  the  ends  of  many 
old  popular  ballads.  "Bonny  Robin"  appears  to  have  been  a  fa- 
vorite, for  there  were  many  others  written  to  that  tune.  This  last 
stanza  is  quoted  with  some  variation  in  Eastioard  Ho!  1605,  by 
Jonson,  Marston,  and  Chapman. — H.  N.  H. 

191.  "Thought^'  was  used  for  grief,  care,  pensiveness.  "Curarum 
volvere  in  pectore.  He  will  die  for  sorrow  and  thought"  (Baret). 
— H.  N.  H. 

147 


Act  IV.  Sc.  V.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

Oph.  losings]  And  will  a'  not  come  again? 
And  will  a'  not  come  again? 
No,  no,  he  is  dead. 
Go  to  thy  death-bed. 
He  never  will  come  again. 
His  beard  was  as  white  as  snow, 
All  flaxen  was  his  poll : 

He  is  gone,  he  is  gone,  200 

And  we  cast  away  moan: 
God  ha'  mercy  on  his  soul ! 
And  of  all  Christian  souls,  I  pray  God.     God 
be  wi'  you.  [Ea^it. 

Lae?'.  Do  you  see  this,  O  God? 
King,  Laertes,  I  must  commune  with  your  grief, 
Or  you  deny  me  right.     Go  but  apart. 
Make  choice  of  whom  your  wisest  friends  you 

will. 
And  they  shall  hear  and  judge  'twixt  you  and 

me: 
If  by  direct  or  by  collateral  hand  209 

They  find  us  touched,  we  will  our  kingdom  give, 
Our  crown,  our  life,  and  all  that  we  call  ours. 
To  you  in  satisfaction;  but  if  not. 
Be  you  content  to  lend  your  patience  to  us. 
And  we  shall  jointly  labor  with  your  soul 
To  give  it  due  content. 
Laer.  Let  this  be  so; 

His  means  of  death,  his  obscure  funeral, 
No  trophy,  sword,  nor  hatchment  o'er  his  bones, 

198.  cp.  "Eastward  Hoe"  (1604),  by  Jonson,  Marston,  and  Chap- 
man, for  a  travesty  of  the  scene  and  this  song  (Act  III.  Sc.  i.). — 
I.  G. 

148 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  IV.  Sc.  vi. 

No  noble  rite  nor  formal  ostentation, 
Cry  to  be  heard,  as  'twere  from  heaven  to  earth, 
That  I  must  call 't  in  question.  220 

King.  So  you  shall ; 

And  where  the  offense  is  let  the  great  axe  fall. 
I  pray  you,  go  with  me.  [Exeunt. 


Scene  VI 

Another  room  in  the  castle. 
Enter  Horatio  and  a  servant. 

Hor.  What  are  they  that  would  speak  with  me  ? 

Serv.  Sea-faring  men,  sir:  they  say  they  have  let- 
ters for  you. 

Hor.  Let  them  come  in.  [Exit  Servant. 

I  do  not  know  from  what  part  of  the  world 
I  should  be  greeted,  if  not  from  Lord  Hamlet. 

Enter  Sailors. 

First  Sail.  God  bless  you,  sir. 

Hor.  Let  him  bless  thee  too. 

First  Sail.  He  shall,  sir,  an 't  please  him. 
There  's  a  letter  for  you,  sir ;  it  comes  from 
the  ambassador  that  was  bound  for  Eng-   1'* 

220.  "call  it  in  question";  the  funerals  of  knights  and  persons  of 
rank  were  made  with  great  ceremony  and  ostentation  formerly.  Sir 
John  Hawkins  observes  that  "the  sword,  the  helmet,  the  gauntlet, 
spurs,  and  tabard  are  still  hung  over  the  grave  of  every  knight." — 
H.  N.  H. 

2.  "8ea-furhi(/  men'';  so  Qq. ;  Ff.  read  "Sailors." — I.  G. 

149 


20 


Act  IV.  Sc.  vi.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

land;  if  your  name  be  Horatio,  as  I  am  let 
to  know  it  is. 
Hor.  [Reads]  'Horatio,  when  thou  shalt  have 
overlooked  this,  give  these  fellows  some 
means  to  the  king :  they  have  letters  for  him. 
Ere  we  were  two  days  old  at  sea,  a  pirate  of 
very  warlike  appointment  gave  us  chase. 
Finding  ourselves  too  slow  of  sail,  we  put  on 
a  compelled  valor,  and  in  the  grapple  I 
boarded  them:  on  the  instant  they  got  clear 
of  our  ship ;  so  I  alone  became  their  prisoner. 
They  have  dealt  with  me  like  thieves  of 
mercy:  but  they  knew  what  they  did;  I  am 
to  do  a  good  turn  for  them.  Let  the  king 
have  the  letters  I  have  sent ;  and  repair  thou 
to  me  with  as  much  speed  as  thou  wouldst 
fly  deatli.  I  have  words  to  speak  in  thine 
ear  will  make  thee  dumb;  yet  are  they  much 
too  light  for  the  bore  of  the  matter.  These 
good  fellows  will  bring  thee  where  I  am.  30 
Rosencrantz  and  Guildenstern  hold  their 
course  for  England :  of  them  I  have  much  to 
tell  thee.     Farewell. 

'He  that  thou  knowest  thine,  Hamlet.^ 

Come,  I  will  make  you  way  for  these  your  let- 
ters ; 
And  do  't  the  speedier,  that  you  may  direct  me 
To  hinj  from  whom  you  brought  them. 

[EoceunU 


150 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  iv.  Sc.  vii. 


Scene  VII 

Another  room  in  the  castle. 
Enter  King  and  Laertes. 

King.  Now  must  your  conscience  my  acquittance 
seal, 
And  you  must  put  me  in  your  heart  for  friend, 
Sith  you  have  heard,  and  with  a  knowing  ear. 
That  he  which  hath  your  noble  father  slain 
Pursued  my  life. 

Laer.  It  well  appears :  but  teU  me 

Why  you  proceeded  not  against  these  feats. 
So  crimeful  and  so  capital  in  nature, 
As  by  your  safety,  wisdom,  all  things  else. 
You  mainly  were  stirred  up. 

King.  O,  for  two  special  reasons. 

Which  may  to  you  perhaps  seem  much  un- 
sinew'd,  1^ 

But  yet  to  me  they  're  strong.    The  queen  his 

mother 
'Lives  almost  by  his  looks;  and  for  myself — 
My  virtue  or  my  plague,  be  it  either  which — 
She  's   so  conjunctive  to  my  life  and  soul. 
That,  as  the  star  moves  not  but  in  his  sphere, 
I  could  not  but  by  her.     The  other  motive. 
Why  to  a  public  count  I  might  not  go. 
Is  the  great  love  the  general  gender  bear  him; 

9.  "mainly   were   stirr'd   up";  had  the   strongest  motive  to   do.— 
C.  H.  H. 

14.  "She's  so  conjunctive";  so  Ff.;  Qq.  read  "She  is  so  concline"; 
Q.,  1676,  "She  is  so  precious." — I.  G. 

151 


Act  IV.  Sc.  vii.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

Who,  dipping  all  his  faults  in  their  affection, 
Would,  like  the  spring  that  turneth  wood  to 

stone,  20 

Convert  his  gyves  to  graces;  so  that  my  arrows, 
Too  slightly  timber'd  for  so  loud  a  wind. 
Would  have  reverted  to  my  bow  again 
And  not  where  I  had  aim'd  them. 
Laer.  And  so  have  I  a  noble  father  lost ; 
A  sister  driven  into  desperate  terms, 
Whose  worth,  if  praises  maj'^  go  back  again. 
Stood  challenger  on  mount  of  all  the  age 
For  her  perfections :  but  my  revenge  will  come. 
King.  Break  not  your  sleeps  for  that:  you  must 

not  think  30 

That  We  are  made  of  stuff  so  flat  and  dull 
That  we  can  let  our  beard  be  shook  with  danger 
And  think  it  pastime.     You  shortly  shall  hear 

more: 
I  loved  your  father,  and  we  love  ourself ; 
And  that,  I  hope,  will  teach  you  to  imagine — 

Enter  a  Messenger,  with  letters. 

How  now !  what  news  ? 
Mess.  Letters,  my  lord,  from  Hamlet : 

This  to  your  majesty;  this  to  the  queen. 
King.  From  Hamlet!  who  brought  them? 
Mess.  Sailors,  my  lord,  they  say;  I  saw  them  not: 

They  were  given  me  by  Claudio;  he  received 
them  40 

Of  him  that  brought  them. 

22.  "loud  a  wind,"   so    Ff.;   Qq.   2,   3,  "loued  Arm'd";   Qq.   4,   5, 
"lowed  armes." — I.  G. 

152 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  IV.  Sc.  vii. 

King.  Laertes,  you  shall  hear  them. 

Leave  us.  [Eocit  Messenger, 

[Reads']  'High  and  mighty,  You  shall  know  I 
am  set  naked  on  your  kingdom.  To-mor- 
row shall  I  beg  leave  to  see  your  kingly 
eyes :  when  I  shall,  first  asking  your  pardon 
thereunto,  recount  the  occasion  of  my  sud- 
den and  more  strange  return. 

*Hamlet/ 
What  should  this  mean?    Are  all  the  rest  come 
back?  50 

Or  is  it  some  abuse,  and  no  such  thing? 

Laer.  Know  you  the  hand? 

King.  'Tis  Hamlet's  character.     'Naked'! 
And  in  a  postscript  here,  he  says  'alone.' 
Can  you  advise  me? 

JLaer.  I  'm  lost  in  it,  my  lord.     But  let  him  come; 
It  warms  the  very  sickness  in  my  heart. 
That  I  shall  live  and  tell  him  to  his  teeth, 
'Thus  didest  thou.' 

King.  If  it  be  so,  Laertes, — 

As  how  should  it  be  so?  how  otherwise? — 
Will  you  be  ruled  by  me? 

Laer.  Aye,  my  lord;  60 

So  you  will  not  o'errule  me  to  a  peace. 

King.  To  thine  own  peace.     If  he  be  now  return'd. 
As  checking  at  liis  voyage,  and  that  he  means 
No  more  to  undertake  it,  I  will  work  him 
To  an  exploit  now  ripe  in  my  device, 
Under  the  which  he  shall  not  choose  but  fall : 

59.  "As  how  should   it    he   so?   how   otherwise?"     It    is   incompre- 
hensible, and  yet,  on  the  evidence,  beyond  question. — C.  H.  H. 

153 


Act  IV.  Sc.  vii.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

And   for  his   death  no   wind   of  blame   shall 

breathe ; 
But  even  his  mother  shall  uncharge  the  practice. 
And  call  it  accident. 

Laer.  JNIy  lord,  I  will  be  ruled; 

The  rather,  if  you  could  devise  it  so  ''0 

That  I  might  be  the  organ. 

King.  It  falls  right. 

You  have  been  talk'd  of  since  your  travel  much. 
And  that  in  Hamlet's  hearing,  for  a  quality 
Wherein,  they  say,  you  shine :  your  sum  of  parts 
Did  not  together  pluck  such  envy  from  him, 
As  did  that  one,  and  that  in  my  regard 
Of  the  unworthiest  siege. 

JLaer.  What  part  is  that,  my  lord? 

King.  A  verj'^  riband  in  the  cap  of  youth. 
Yet  needful  too ;  for  youth  no  less  becomes/ 
The  light  and  careless  livery  that  it  w^ears  j    80 
Than  settled  age  his  sables  and  his  weeds. 
Importing  health  and  graveness.     Two  months 

since. 
Here  was  a  gentleman  of  Normandy: — 
I  've    seen    myself,    and    served    against,    the 

French, 
And  they  can  well  on  horseback :  but  this  gallant 
Had  witchcraft  in  't ;  he  grew  unto  his  seat, 
And  to  such  wondrous  doing  brought  his  horse 
As  had  he  been  incorpsed  and  demi-natured 

69-82.  "my  lord  .  .  .  graveness" ;  omitted  in  Ff. ;  so,  too,  11. 
115-134.— I.  G. 

78.  ''A  very  riband";  we  have  elsewhere  found  very  used  in  the 
sense  of  viere. — H.  X.  H. 

154 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  iv.  Sc.  vii. 

With  the  brave  beast:   so   far  he  topp'd  my 

thought 
That  I,  in  forgery  of  shapes  and  tricks,  90 

Come  short  of  what  he  did.  ; 

Laer.  A  Norman  was  't?J 

King.  A  Norman. 

Laer.  Upon  my  hfe,  Lamond. 

King.  The  very  same. 

Laer.  I  know  him  \\e\\ :  he  is  the  brooch  indeed 
And  gem  of  all  the  nation. 

King.  He  made  confession  of  you, 

And  gave  you  such  a  masterly  report, 

For  art  and  exercise  in  your  defense. 

And  for  your  rapier  most  especial, 

That  he  cried  out,  'twould  be  a  sight  indeed  100 

If  one  could  match  you:  the  scrimers  of  their 

nation. 
He  swore,  had  neither  motion,  guard,  nor  eye, 
If  you  opposed  them.     Sir,  this  report  of  his 
Did  Hamlet  so  envenom  with  his  envy 
That  he  could  nothing  do  but  wish  and  beg 
Your  sudden  coming  o'er,  to  play  with  him. 
Now,  out  of  this — 

Laer.  What  out  of  this,  my  lord? 

King.  Laertes,  was  your  father  dear  to  you? 
Or  are  you  like  the  painting  of  a  sorrow, 
A  face  without  a  heart  ? 

Laer.  Why  ask  you  this?        HO 

King.  Not  that  I  think  you   did  not  love  your 
father, 

97.  "gave  you  such  a   masteriy   report";  i.  e.   reported   him  to  be 
sjich  a  master, — C.   H.   H. 

155 


Act  IV.  Sc.  vii.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAJNILET 

But  that  I  know  love  is  begun  by  time, 
And  that  1  set,  in  passages  of  proof, 
Time  quahfies  the  spark  and  fire  of  it. 
jThere  lives  within  the  very  flame  of  lo^  e 
|\  kind  of  wick  or  snufF  that  will  abate  it; 
^Vnd  nothing  is  at  a  like  goodness  still. 
For  goodness,  growing  to  a  plurisy, 
Dies  in  his  own  too  much :  that  we  would  do 
We  should  do  when  we  would;  for  this  'would' 
changes  120 

And  hath  abatements  and  delays  as  many 
As  there  are  tongues,  are  hands,  are  accidents, 
And  then  this  'should'  is  like  a  spendthrift  sigh, 
That  hurts  by  easing.     But,  to  the  quick  o'  the 

ulcer : 
Hamlet  comes  back :  what  would  you  undertake, 
To  show  yourself  your  father's  son  indeed 
More  than  in  words? 
Laer.  To  cut  his  throat  i'  the  church. 

King.  No  place  indeed  should  murder  sanctuarize ; 
Revenge  should  have  no  bounds.     But,  good 

Laertes, 
Will  you  do  this,  keep  close  within  your  cham- 
ber. 130 

112.  As  "love  is  begun  by  time,"  and  has  its  gradual  increase,  so 
time  qualifies  and  abates  it.  "Passages  of  proof"  are  transactions 
of  daily  experience. — H.  X.   H. 

\2'i.  "a  spendthrift  sigh";  Mr.  Biakevvay  justly  observes,  that 
"Sorrow  for  neglected  opportunities  and  time  abused  seems  most 
aptlj-  compared  to  the  sigh  of  a  spendthrift; — good  resolutions  not 
carried  into  effect  are  deeply  injurious  to  the  moral  character. 
Like  sighs,  they  hurt  by  easing;  they  unburden  the  mind  and  satisfy 
the  conscience,  without  producing  anv  effect  upon  the  conduct." — 
H.  N.  H. 

156 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Ad  iv.  Sc.  vii. 

Hamlet  return'd  shall  know  yon  are  eonie  home : 
We  '11  put  on  those  shall  praise  your  excellence 
And  set  a  double  varnish  on  the  fame 
The  Frenchman  gave  you ;  bring  you  in  fine  to- 
gether 
And  wager  on  your  heads:  he,  being  remiss, 
Most  generous  and  free  from  all  contriving, 
Will  not  peruse  the  foils,  so  that  with  ease. 
Or  with  a  little  shuffling,  you  may  choose 
A  sword  unbated,  and  in  a  pass  of  practice 
Requite  him  for  your  father. 
Laer.  IwiUdo't;        1^0 

i  And  for  that  purpose  I  '11  anoint  my  sword. 

I    I  bought  an  unction  of  a  mountebank, 
So  mortal  that  but  dip  a  knife  in  it. 
Where  it  draws  blood  no  cataplasm  so  rare. 
Collected  from  all  simples  that  have  virtue 
Under  the  moon,  can  save  the  thing  from  death 
That  is  but  scratch'd  withal:   I  '11  touch  my 

point 
With  this  contagion,  that,  if  I  gall  him  slightly. 
It  may  be  death. 

n.  "anoint  my  sword" :  Warburton  having  pronounced  Laertes  "a 
good  character,"  Coleridge  thereupon  makes  tlie  following  note: 
"Mercy  on  Warburton's  notion  of  goodness!  Please  to  refer  to  the 
seventh  scene  of  this  Act;— 'I  will  do't;  and,  for  this  purpose,  I'll 
anoint  my  sword,' — uttered  by  Laertes  after  the  King's  description  of 
Hamlet:  'He,  being  remiss,  most  generous,  and  free  from  all  con- 
triving, will  not  peruse  the  foils.'  Yet  I  acknowledge  that  Shake- 
speare evidently  wishes,  as  much  as  possible,  to  spare  the  character 
of  Laertes, — to  break  the  extreme  turpitude  of  his  consent  to  be- 
come an  agent  and  accomplice  of  the  King's  treachery; — and  to 
this  end  he  re-introduces  Ophelia  at  the  close  of  this  scene,  to 
afford  a  probable  stimulus  of  passion  in  her  brother." — H.  N.  H. 

149.  "it  may  be  death";  Ritson  has  exclaimed  against  the  villainous 
treachery  of  Laertes  in  this  horrid  plot:  he  observes  "there  is  more 

157 


Act  IV.  Sc.  vii.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

King.  Let's  further  think  of  this; 

Weigh   what   convenience   both   of   tinie    and 
means  150 

May  fit  us  to  our  shape :  if  this  should  fail, 
And  that  our  drift  look  through  our  bad  per- 
formance, 
'Twere, better  not  assay'd:  therefore  this  pro- 

^€ct 
Should  have  a  back  or  second,  that  might  hold 
If  this  did  blast  in  proof.     Soft!  let  me  see: 
We  '11  make  a  solemn  wager  on  your  cunnings : 
I  ha't: 

When  in  your  motion  you  are  hot  and  dry — 
As  make  your  bouts  more  violent  to  that  end — 
And  that  he  calls  for  drink,  I  '11  have  prepared 
him  160 

A  chalice  for  the  nonce;  whereon  but  sipping, 
If  he  by  chance  escape  your  venom'd  stuck. 
Our  purpose  may  hold  there.     But  stay,  what 
noise  ? 

Enter  Queen. 


How  now,  sweet  queen 


occasion  that  he  should  be  pointed  out  for  an  object  of  abhorrence, 
as  he  is  a  character  we  are  led  to  respect  and  admire  in  some  pre- 
ceding scenes."  In  the  quarto  of  1603  this  contrivance  originates 
with  the  king.— H.  N.  H. 

163.  "But  stay,  what  noise?";  the  reading  of  Qq.;  omitted  in  Ff. 
—I.  G. 

164.  "How  now,  sweet  queen";  "That  Laertes,"  says  Coleridge, 
"might  be  excused  in  some  degree  for  not  cooling,  the  Act  con- 
cludes with  the  affecting  death  of  Ophelia;  who  in  the  beginning 
lay  like  a  little  projection  of  land  into  a  lake  or  stream,  covered 
with  spray-flowers,  quietly  reflected  in  the  quiet  waters;  but  at 
length  is  undermined  or  loosened,  and  becomes  a  faery  isle,  and 
after  a  brief  vagrancy  sinks  almost  without  an  eddy." — H.  N.  H. 

158 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  IV.  Sc.  vii. 

Queen.  One  woe  doth  tread  upon  another's  heel, 
So   fast   they   follow :   your   sister 's   drown'd, 
Laertes.  ^tI^ 

Laer.  Drown'd!     O,  where?  T^^ 

Queen.  There  is  a  willow  grows  aslant  a  brook, 
That  shows  his  hoar  leaves  in  the  glassy  stream ; 
There  with  fantastic  garlands  did  she  come 
Of  crow-flowers,  nettles,  daisies,  and  long  pur- 
ples, 170 
That  liberal  shepherds  give  a  grosser  name, 
But  our  cold  maids  do  dead  men's  fingers  call 

them: 
There,  on  the  pendent  boughs  her  coronet  weeds 
Clambering  to  hang,  an  envious  sliver  broke ; 
When  down  her  weedy  trophies  and  herself 
Fell  in  the  weeping  brook.     Her  clothes  spread 

wide. 
And  mermaid-like  a  while  they  bore  her  up : 
Which  time  she  chanted  snatches  of  old  tunes, 
As  one  incapable  of  her  own  distress. 
Or  like  a  creature  native  and  indued  180 

Unto  that  element :  but  long  it  could  not  be 
Till  that  her  garments,  heavy  with  their  drink, 
Pull'd  the  poor  wretch  from  her  melodious  lay 
To  muddy  death. 

Laer.  Alas,  then  she  is  drown'd ! 

Queen.  Drown'd,  drown'd. 

Laer.  Too  much  of  water  hast  thou,  poor  Ophelia,  *^^^ 

167.  "There  is  a  willow";  this  exquisite  passage  is  deservedly  cele-       f-^^"^^ 
brated.     Nothing  could   better   illustrate   the   Poet's   power   to   make 
the  description  of  a  thing  better  than  the  thing  itself,  by  gi\ing  us  his 
eyes  to  see  it  with. — H.  N.  H. 

178.  "tunes";  so  F.  and  Q.  1;  Q.  2,  "lauds"  (j.  e.  chants). — I.  G. 

15,9 


Act  IV.  Sc.  vii.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

And  therefore  I  forbid  my  tears :  but  yet 

It  is  our  trick ;  nature  her  custom  holds, 

Let  shame  say  what  it  will :  when  these  are  gone, 

■      The  woman  will  be  out.     Adieu,  my  lord :      190 
I  have  a  speech  of  fire  that  f aijiWjOuld  blaze, 
But  that  this  f  oUy  douts  it.  -^;J^^v4-'*-^^ 

King.  Let 's  follow,  Gertrude ; 

How  much  I  had  to  do  to  calm  his  rage! 
Now  fear  I  this  will  give  it  start  again; 
Therefore  let 's  follow.  ^Exeunt. 

192.  "douts";  Knight's  emendation;  F.  1,  "doubts";  Qq.,  "drownes." 
—I.  G.  ^ 


160 


riilNCE  OF  DENxMAKK  Act  v.  Sc.  i. 

y 


ACT  FIFTH 

Scene  I 

A  churchyard. 
Enter  two  Clowns^  with  spades,  <§c. 

First  Clo.  Is  she  to  be  buried  in  Christian 
burial  that  willfully  seeks  her  own  salvation? 

Sec.  Clo.  I  tell  thee  she  is ;  and  therefore  make 
her  grave  straight :  the  crowner  hath  sat  on 
her,  and  finds  it  Christian  burial. 

First  Clo.  How  can  that  be,  unless  she 
drowned  herself  in  her  own  defense? 

Sec.  Clo.  Why,  'tis  found  so. 

First  Clo.  It  must  be  'se  offendendo;'  it  cannot 
be  else.  For  here  lies  the  point :  if  I  drown  10 
myself  wittingly,  it  argues  an  act:  and  an 
act  hath  three  branches ;  it  is,  to  act,  to  do,  to 
perform:  argal,  she  drowned  herself  wit- 
tingly. 

13.  "toittingly" ;  Shakespeare's  frequent  and  correct  use  of  legal 
terms  and  phrases  has  led  to  the  belief  that  he  must  have  served 
something  of  an  apprenticeship  in  the  law.  Among  the  legal  au- 
thorities studied  in  his  time,  were  Plowden's  Commentnriea,  a  black- 
letter  book,  written  in  the  old  law  French.  One  of  the  cases  re- 
ported by  Plowden,  is  that  of  Dame  Hales,  regarding  the  forfeiture 
of  a  lease,  in  consequence  of  the  suicide  of  Sir  James  Hales;  and 
Sir  John  Hawkins  has  ])oii^ted  out,  that  this  rich  burlesque  of 
"crowner's-qiiest  law"  was  probably  intended  as  a  ridicule  on  cer- 
tain passages  in  that  case.  He  produces  the  following  speech  of 
XX— 11  161 


Act  V.  Sc.  i.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLETJj^ 

Sec.  Clo.  Nay,  but  hear  you,  goodman  delver.^ 

First  Clo.  Give  me  leave.  Here  lies  the 
water;  good:  here  stands  the  man;  good:  if 
the  man  go  to  this  water  and  drown  himself, 
it  is,  will  he,  nill  he,  he  goes ;  mark  you  that ; 
but  if  the  water  come  to  him  and  drown  him,  20 
he  drowns  not  himself:  argal,  he  that  is  not 
guilty  of  his  own  death  shortens  not  his  own 
life. 

Sec.  Clo.  But  is  this  law? 

First  Clo,  Aye,   marry,   is  't ;   crowner's   quest 
law. 

Sec.  Clo.  Will  you  ha'  the  truth  on  't?     If  this 

one  of  the  counsel:  "Walsh  said  that  tie  act  consists  of  three 
parts.  The  first  is  the  imagination,  which  is  a  reflection  or  medita- 
tion of  the  mind,  whether  or  no  it  is  convenient  lor  l<im  to  destroy 
himself,  and  what  way  it  can  be  done.  The  second  is  tlie  resolution, 
which  is  a  determination  of  the  mind  to  destroy  himself,  and  to  do 
it  in  this  or  that  particular  way.  The  third  is  the  perfection, 
which  is  the  execution  of  what  the  mind  has  resolved  to  do.  And 
this  perfection  consists  of  two  parts,  the  beginning  and  the  end. 
The  beginning  is  the  doing  of  the  act  which  causes  the  death;  and 
the  end  is  the  death,  which  is  only  a  sequel  to  the  act." — H.  N.  H. 

23.  "shortens  not  his  own  life";  we  must  here  produce  another  pas- 
sage from  Plowden,  as  given  by  Hawkins.  It  is  the  reasoning  of 
one  of  the  judges,  and  is  nearly  as  good  as  that  in  the  text:  "Sir 
James  Hales  was  dead,  and  how  came  he  to  his  death?  It  may  be 
answered,  by  drowning;  and  who  drowned  him?  Sir  James  Hales. 
And  when  did  he  drown  him?  in  his  life-time.  So  that  Sir  James 
Hales,  being  alive,  caused  Sir  James  Hales  to  die;  and  the  act  of 
the  living  man  was  the  death  of  the  dead  man.  And  then  for  this 
offence  it  is  reasonable  to  punish  the  living  man  who  committed  the 
offence,  and  not  the  dead  man.  But  how  can  he  be  said  to  be 
punished  alive,  when  the  punishment  comes  after  his  death?  Sir, 
this  can  be  done  no  other  way  but  by  divesting  out  of  him,  from  the 
time  of  the  act  done  in  his  life  which  was  the  cause  of  his  death, 
the  title  and  property  of  those  things  which  he  had  in  his  life-time." 
— H.  N.  H. 

162 


PRINCE  OF  DENJNIARK  Act  V.  Sc.  i. 

had  not  been  a  gentlewoman,  she  should  have 
been  buried  out  o'  Christian  burial. 

First  Clo.  Why,  there  thou  say'st:  and  the  ^0 
more  Y>ity  that  great  folk  should  have  coun- 
tenance in  this  world  to  drown  or  hang  them- 
selves, more  than  their  even  Christian. 
Come,  my  spade.  There  is  no  ancient  gen- 
tlemen but  gardeners,  ditchers  and  grave- 
makers  :  they  hold  up  Adam's  profession. 

Sec.  Clo.  Was  he  a  gentleman? 

First  Clo.  A'  was  the  first  that  ever  bore  arms. 

Sec.  Clo.  Why,  he  had  none. 

First  Clo.  What,  art  a  heathen?  How  dost  40 
thou  understand  the  Scripture  ?  The  Scrip- 
ture says  Adam  digged:  could  he  dig  with- 
out arms?  I  '11  put  another  question  to 
thee:  if  thou  answerest  me  not  to  the  pur- 
pose,  confess  thyself — 

Sec.  Clo.  Go  to. 

First  Clo.  What  is  he  that  builds  stronger  than 
either  the  mason,  the  shipwright,  or  the  car- 
penter ? 

Sec.  Clo.  The  gallows-maker;  for  that  frame   50 
out-lives  a  thousand  tenants. 

First  Clo.  I  like  thy  wit  well,  in  good  faith :  the 
gallows  does  well;  but  how  does  it  well?  it 
does  well  to  those  that  do  ill :  now,  thou  dost 
ill  to  say  the  gallows  is  built  stronger  than 
the  church:  argal,  the  gallows  may  do  well 
to  thee.     To  't  again,  come. 

S9-i2,  omitted  in  Qq.— I.  G. 
163 


Act  V.  Sc.  i.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

Sec.  Clo.  'Who  builds  stronger  than  a  mason, 

a  shipwright,  or  a  carpenter?' 
First  Clo.  Aye,  tell  me  that,  and  unyoke.  60 

Sec.  Clo.  Marn%  now  I  can  tell. 
First  Clo.  To't. 
Sec.  Clo.  Mass,  I  cannot  tell. 

Enter  Hamlet  and  Horatio,  afar  off. 

First  Clo.  Cudgel  thy  brains  no  more  about  it, 
for  your  dull  ass  will  not  mend  his  pace  with 
beating,  and  when  you  are  asked  tliis  ques- 
tion next,  say  'a  grave-maker:'  the  houses 
that  he  makes  last  till  doomsday.  Go,  get 
thee  to  Yaughan ;  fetch  me  a  stoup  of  liquor. 

[Exit  Sec.  Clown. 

[He  digs,  and  sings. 

In  youth,  when  I  did  love,  did  love,  '^0 

ISIethought  it  was  very  sweet. 
To  contract,  O,  the  time,  for-a  mj'-  behove, 
O,  methought,  there-a  was  nothing-a  meet. 

70.  "In  youth  when  I  did  love*';  the  original  ballad  from  whence 
these  stanzas  are  taken  is  printed  in  Tottel's  Miscellany,  or  Songes 
and  Sonnettes  bj'  Lord  Surrey  and  others,  1575.  The  ballad  is 
attributed  to  Lord  Vaux,  and  is  printed  by  Dr.  Percy  in  his 
Reliques  of  Ancient  Poetry.  The  nhs  and  the  ahs  are  caused  by 
the  forcible  emission  of  the  digger's  breatli  at  each  stroke  of  the  mat- 
tock.    The  original  runs  thus: 

"I  lothe  that  I  did  love, 

In  youth  that  I  thought  swete: 
As  time  requires  for  my  behove, 
Methinks  they  are  not  mete. 

"For  age  with  stealing  steps 

Hath  Claude  me  with  his  crowch; 
And  lusty  j'outhe  away  he  leaps, 
As  there  had  bene  none  such." — H.  N.  H. 
I6i 


PRINCE  OF  DEXMAKK  Act  v.  Sc.  i. 

Ha7ti.  Has  this  fellow  no  feeling  of  his  busi- 
ness, that  he  sings  at  grave-making? 

Hor.  Custom  hath  made  it  in  him  a  property 
of  easiness. 

Ham.  'Tis  e'en  so:  the  hand  of  Httle  employ- 
ment hath  the  daintier  sense. 

First  Clo.   [Sings]  But  age,  with  his  stealing  steps, 
Hath  claw'd  me  in  his  clutch,  81 

And  hath  shipped  me  iiitil  the  land, 
As  if  I  had  never  been  such. 

[Throws  up  a  skull. 

Ham.  That  skull  had  a  tongue  in  it,  and  could 
sing  once:  how  the  knave  jowls  it  to  the 
ground,  as  if  it  were  Cain's  jaw-bone,  that 
did  the  first  murder!  It  might  be  the  pate 
of  a  politician,  which  this  ass  now  o'er- 
reaches;  one  that  would  circumvent  God, 
might  it  not?  90 

Hor.  It  might,  my  lord. 

Ham.  Or  of  a  courtier,  which  could  say  'Good 
morrow,  sweet  lord!  How  dost  thou,  sweet 
lord?'  This  might  be  my  lord  such-a-one, 
that  praised  my  lord  such-a-one's  horse, 
when  he  meant  to  beg  it;  might  it  not? 

Hor.  Aye,  my  lord. 

Harn.  Why,  e'en  so:  and  now  my  Lady 
Worm's;  chapless,  and  knocked  about  the 
mazzard  with  a  sexton's  spade :  here  's  fine  100 

86.  "Cain's  jaw-bone";  alluding  to  the  ancient  tradition  that  Cain 
slew  Abel  with  tlie  jaw-bone  of  an  ass. — C.  H.  H. 

98.  "now  my  lady  Worm's";  the  skull  that  was  my  lord  such-a- 
one's  is  now  my  lady  worm's. — H.  N.  H. 

165 


Act  V.  Sc.  i.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLEX 

revolution,  an  we  had  the  trick  to  see  't. 
Did  these  bones  cost  no  more  the  breeding, 
but  to  play  at  loggats  with  'em?  mine  ache 
to  think  on  't. 

First  Clo.   [Sings']    A   pick-axe,   and   a   spade,   a 
spade, 
For  and  a  shrouding  sheet: 
O,  a  pit  of  clay  for  to  be  made 
For  such  a  guest  is  meet. 

[Throws  up  another  skull. 
%  Ham.  There  's  another :  why  may  not  that  be  HO 
the  skull  of  a  lawyer  ?  Where  be  his  quiddi- 
ties now,  his  quillets,  his  cases,  his  tenures, 
and  his  tricks?  why  does  he  suffer  this  rude 
knave  now  to  knock  him  about  the  sconce 
with  a  dirty  shovel,  and  will  not  tell  him  of 
his  action  of  battery?  Hum!  This  fellow 
might  be  in  's  time  a  great  buyer  of  land, 
with  his  statutes,  his  recognizances,  his  fines, 
his  double  vouchers,  his  recoveries:  is  this 
the  fine  of  his  fines  and  the  recovery  of  his  120 
recoveries,  to  have  his  fine  pate  full  of  fine 
dirt?  will  his  vouchers  vouch  him  no  more 
of  his  purchases,  and  double  ones  too,  than 
the  length  and  breadth  of  a  pair  of  inden- 
tures? The  very  conveyances  of  his  lands 
will  hardly  lie  in  this  box;  and  must  the  in- 
heritor himself  have  no  more,  ha? 

Hor.  Not  a  jot  more,  my  lord. 

Ham.  Is  not  parchment  made  of  sheep-skins? 

Hor.  Aye,  my  lord,  and  of  calf -skins  too.  130 

119-121.  "is  this     .    .    .    recoveries" ;  omitted  in  Qq. — I.  G. 

166 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  V.  Sc.  i. 

Ham.  They  are  sheep  and  calves  which  seek  out 
assurance  in  that.  I  will  speak  to  this  fel- 
low.    Whose  grave  's  this,  sirrah? 

First  Clo.  ^line,  sir. 

\_Sings]  O,  a  pit  of  clay  for  to  be  made 
For  such  a  guest  is  meet. 

Ham.  I  think  it  be  thine  indeed,  for  thou  liest 
in't. 

First  Clo.  You  lie  out  on  't,  sir,  and  therefore 
'tis  not  yours :  for  my  part,  I  do  not  lie  in  't,  140 
and  yet  it  is  mine. 

Ham.  Thou  dost  lie  in  't,  to  be  in  't  and  say  it  is 
thine:  'tis  for  the  dead,  not  for  the  quick; 
therefore  thou  liest. 

First  Clo.  'Tis  a  quick  lie,  sir;  'twill  away 
again,  from  me  to  you. 

Ham.  What  man  dost  thou  dig  it  for? 

First  Clo.  For  no  man,  sir. 

Ham.  What  woman  then? 

First  Clo.  For  none  neither.  150 

Ham.  Who  is  to  be  buried  in  't? 

First  Clo.  One  that  was  a  woman,  sir;  but,  rest 
her  soul,  she  's  dead. 

Ham.  How  absolute  the  knave  is!  we  must 
speak  by  the  card,  or  equivocation  will  undo 
us.  By  the  Lord,  Horatio,  this  three  years 
I  have  taken  note  of  it:  the  age  is  grown 
so  picked  that  the  toe  of  the  peasant  comes 
so  near  the  heel  of  the  courtier,  he  galls  his 
^^"^  kibe.  How  long  hast  thou  been  a  grave- 160 
maker? 

136,  omitted  in  Qq. — I.  G. 
167 


Act  V.  Sc.  i. 


TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 


y 


First  Clo.  Of  all  the  days  i'  the  year,  I  came 

to  't  that  day  that  our  last  King  Hamlet 

o'ercame  Fortinbras. 
Ham,  How  long  is  that  since? 
First  Clo.  Cannot  you  tell  that?  every  fool  can 

tell  that:  it  was  that  very  day  that  young 

Hamlet  was  born:  he  that  is  mad,  and  sent 

into  England. 
Ham.  Aye,  marry,  why  was  he  sent  into  Eng- 170 

land? 
t  First  Clo.  Why,  because  a'  was  mad;  a'  shall 

recover  his  wits  there:  or,  if  a'  do  not,  'tis 

no  great  matter  there. 
Ham.  Why? 
First  Clo.  'Twill  not   be   seen   in   him  there; 

there  the  men  are  as  mad  as  he. 
Ham.  How  came  he  mad? 
First  Clo.  Very  strangely,  they  say. 
Ham.  How  'strangely'?  180 

First  Clo.  Faith,  e'en  with  losing  his  wits. 
Ham.  Upon  what  ground? 
First  Clo.  Why,  here  in  Denmark:  I  have  been 

sexton  here,  man  and  boy,  thirty  years. 
Ham.  How  long  will  a  man  lie  i'  the  earth  ere 

he  rot? 


167.  "the  very  day  that  young  Hamlet  was  born";  by  this  scene 
it  appears  that  Hamlet  was  then  thirty  years  old,  and  knew  Yorick 
well,  who  had  been  dead  twenty-three  years.  And  yet  in  the  be- 
ginning of  the  play  he  is  spoken  of  as  one  that  designed  to  go  back 
to  the  university  of  Wittenburgh. — H.  N.  H. 

no.  "there  the  men  are  as  mad  as  he."  The  "madness"  of  Eng- 
lishmen was  a  proverbial  jest,  like  the  gluttony  of  the  Dutch  and 
the  family  pride  of  the  Welsh.— C.  H.  H. 


168 


190 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  V.  Sc.  i. 

First  Clo.  T  faith,  if  a'  be  not  rotten  before  a' 
die — as  we  have  many  pocky  corses  now-a- 
days,  that  will  scarce  hold  the  laying  in — a' 
will  last  you  some  eight  year  or  nine  year: 
a  tanner  will  last  you  nine  year. 

Ham.  Why  he  more  than  another? 

First  Clo.  Why,  sir,  his  hide  is  so  tanned  with 
his  trade  that  a'  will  keep  out  water  a  great 
while;  and  your  water  is  a  sore  decayer  of 
your  whoreson  dead  body.  Here  's  a  skull 
now :  this  skull  has  lain  in  the  earth  three  and 
twenty  years. 

Ham.  Whose  was  it? 

First  Clo.  A  whoreson   mad   fellow's   it   was:  200 
whose  do  you  think  it  was  ? 

Ham.  Nay,  I  know  not. 

First  Clo,  A  pestilence  on  him  for  a  mad 
rogue !  a'  poured  a  flagon  of  Rhenish  on  my 
head  once.  This  same  skull,  sir,  was 
Yorick's  skull,  the  king's  jester. 

Ham.  This? 

First  Clo.  E'en  that. 

Ham.  Let  me  see.  [Takes  the  skull.l  Alas, 
poor  Yorick !  I  knew  him,  Horatio :  a  f  el-  210 
low  of  infinite  jest,  of  most  excellent  fancy: 
he  hath  borne  me  on  his  back  a  thousand 
times;  and  now  how  abhorred  in  my  imag- 
ination it  is!  my  gorge  rises  at  it.  Here 
hung  those  lips  that  I  have  kissed  I  know  not 
how  oft.  Where  be  your  gibes  now?  your 
gambols?  your  songs?  your  flashes  of  merri- 

209,  omitted   in   Qq.— I.  G. 

■  169 


Act  V.  Sc.  i.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAISILET 

merit,  that  were  wont  to  set  the  table  on  a 
roar?  Not  one^jiow,  to  mock  your  own 
grinnmg?  quite  chop-fallen  f  Now  get  you  220 
to  my  lady's  chamber,  and  tell  her,  let  her 
paint  an  inch  thick,  to  this  favor  she  nmst 
come;  make  her  laugh  at  that.  Prithee, 
Horatio,  tell  me  one  thing. 

Hot.  What 's  that,  my  lord  ? 

Ham.  Dost  thou  think  Alexander  looked  o' 
this  fashion  i'  the  earth? 

Hor.  E'en  so. 

Ham.  And  smelt  so?  pah!      [Puts  down  the  skull. 

Hor.  E'en  so,  my  lord.  230 

Ham.  To  what  base  uses  we  may  return,  Ho- 
ratio! Why  may  not  imagination  trace  the 
noble  dust  of  Alexander,  till  he  find  it  stop- 
ping a  bunghole? 

Hor.  'Twere  to  consider  too  curiously,  to  con- 
sider so. 

Ham.  No,  faith,  not  a  jot;  but  to  follow  him 
thither  with  m^odesty  enough  and  likelihood 
to  lead  it:  as  thus;  Alexander  died,  Alex- 
ander was  buried,  Alexander  returneth  into  240 
dust;  the  dust  is  eartli;  of  earth  we  make 
loam ;  and  why  of  that  loam,  whereto  he  was 
converted,  might  they  not  stop  a  beer-barrel? 

Imperious  Caesar,  dead  and  turn'd  to  clay, 
Might  stop  a  hole  to  keep  the  wind  away: 
O,  that  that  earth,  which  kej)t  the  world  in  awe, 
Should  patch  a  wall  to  expel  the  winter's  flaw! 

But  soft!  but  soft!  aside:  here  comes  the 
king. 

170 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  v.  Sc.  i. 

Enter  Priests  (^c^  in  procession;  the  Corpse  of 
Ophelia  J  Laertes  and  Mourners  follotcing; 
King,  Queen,  their  trains,  <§c. 

The  queen,  the  courtiers:  who  is  this  they  fol- 
low? 250 
And  with  such  maimed  rites?  This  doth  be- 
token 
The  corse  they  follow  did  with  desperate  hand 
Fordo  its  own  life:  'twas  of  some  estate. 
Couch  we  awhile,  and  mark. 

[Retiring  with  Horatio. 
Laer.  What  ceremony  else? 

Ham.  That  is  Laertes,  a  very  noble  youth:  mark. 
Laer.  What  ceremony  else? 

First  Priest.  Her  obsequies  have  been  as  far  en- 
larged 
As  we  have  warranty :  her  death  was  doubtful ; 
And,  but  that  great  command  o'ersways  the 
order  260 

She  should  in  ground  unsanctified  have  lodged 
Till  the  last  trumpet;  for  charitable  prayers, 
Shards,  flints  and  pebbles  should  be  thrown  on 

her: 
Yet  here  she  is  allow'd  her  virgin  crants, 
Her  maiden  strewments  and  the  bringing  home 
Of  bell  and  burial. 
Laer.  Must  there  no  more  be  done? 
First  Priest.  No  more  be  done: 

We  should  profane  the  service  of  the  dead 

266.  "of  bell  and  burial" ;  of  has  here  the  force  of  with. — H.  N.  H. 


171 


Act  V.  Sc.  i.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

To  sing  a  requiem  and  such  rest  to  her 
As  to  peace-parted  souls. 

Laer.  Lay  her  i'  the  earth :     270 

And  from  her  fair  and  unpolluted  flesh 
May  violets  spring !     I  tell  thee,  churlish  priest, 
A  ministering  angel  shall  my  sister  be, 
When  thou  liest  howling. 

Ham.  What,  the  fair  Ophelia! 

Queen.  IScattering  flowers^  Sweets  to  the  sweet: 
farewell ! 
I  hoped  thou  shouldst  have  been  my  Hamlet's 

wife ; 
I  thought  thy  bride-bed  to  have  deck'd,  sweet 

maid. 
And  not  have  strew' d  thy  grave. 

Laej'.  O,  treble  woe 

Fall  ten  times  treble  on  that  cursed  head 
Whose  wicked  deed  thy  most  ingenious  sense  280 
Deprived  thee  of!     Hold  off  the  earth  a  while, 
Till  I  have  caught  her  once  more  in  mine  arms : 

[Leaps  into  the  grave. 
Now  pile  your  dust  upon  the  quick  and  dead, 
Till  of  this  flat  a  mountain  you  have  made 
To  o'ertop  old  Pelion  or  the  skyish  head 
Of  blue  Olympus. 

Ham.   [Advancing~\  What  is  he  whose  grief 
Bears  such  an  emphasis  ?  M^hose  phrase  of  sorrow 

269.  "a  requiem"  is  a  mass  sung  for  the  rest  of  the  soul.  So 
called  from  the  words,  "Requiem  aeternam  dona  eis,  Domine." — 
H.  N.  H. 

278.  "treble  woe";  the  reading  of  Qq.  2,  3,  6;  F.  1,  "terrible  woer"; 
Ff,  2,  3,  4,  "terrible  wooer."— I.  G. 


172 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  v.  Sc.  i. 

Conjures  the  wandering  stars  and  makes  them 

stand 
Like  wonder-wounded  hearers?     This  is  I, 
Hamlet  the  Dane.       [Leaps  into  the  grave.  290 

Laer.  The  devil  take  thy  soul ! 

[Grappling  with  him. 

Ham.  Thou  pray'st  not  well. 

I  prithee,  take  thy  fingers  from  my  throat ; 
For,  though  I  am  not  splenitive  and  rash, 
Yet  have  I  in  me  something  dangerous. 
Which   let   thy   wisdom    fear.     Hold   off   thy 
hand. 

King.  Pluck  them  asvmder. 

Queen.  Hamlet,  Hamlet! 

All.  Gentlemen, — 

Hor.  Good  my  lord,  be  quiet. 

[The  Attendants  part  them,  and  they 
come  out  of  the  grave. 

Ham.  Why,  I  will  fight  with  him  upon  this  theme 
Until  my  eyelids  will  no  longer  wag. 

Queen.  O  my  son,  what  theme ?  300 

Ham.  I  loved  Ophelia :  forty  thousand  brothers 
Could  not,  with  all  their  quantity  of  love, 
Make  up  nw  sum.     What  wilt  thou  do  for  her? 

King.  O,  he  is  mad,  Laertes. 

Queen.  For  love  of  God,  forbear  him.  < 

Ham.  'S wounds,  show  me  what  thou 'It  do:      \i,/tt\^^^ 
Woo  't  weep  ?  woo  't  fight  ?  woo  't  fast  ?  woo  't    H 

tear  thyself? 
Woo  't  drink  up  eisel?  eat  a  crocodile? 

308.  "voo't  drink  up  eisel";  vide  Glossary,  "eisel";  the  various 
emendations  "Weissel,"  "Vssel,"  (a  northern  branch  of  the  Rhine), 
"Nile,"  "Nilus"  are  all  equally  unnecessary. — I.  G. 

173 


Act  V.  Sc.  i.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

I  '11  do  't.     Dost  thou  come  here  to  whine? 
To  outface  me  with  leaping  in  her  grave?      310 
Be  buried  quick  with  her,  and  so  will  I : 
And,  if  thou  prate  of  mountains,  let  them  throw 
Millions  of  acres  on  us,  till  our  ground, 
Singeing  his  pate  against  the  burning  zone, 
Make    Ossa    like    a    wart!     Nay,    an    thou  'It 

mouth, 
I  '11  rant  as  well  as  thou. 

Queen.  This  is  mere  madness: 

And  thus  a  while  the  fit  will  work  on  him; 
Anon,  as  patient  as  the  female  dove 
When  that  her  golden  couplets  are  disclosed, 
His  silence  will  sit  drooping. 

Ham.  Hear  you,  sir ;  320 

What  is  the  reason  that  you  use  me  thus  ? 
I  loved  you  ever :  but  it  is  no  matter ; 
Let  Hercules  himself  do  what  he  may. 
The  cat  will  mew,  and  dog  will  have  his  day. 

(Ea^it. 

King.  I  pray  thee,  good  Horatio,  wait  upon  him. 

[Eant  Horatio. 
[To  Lacrtes~\  Strengthen  your  patience  in  our 

last  night's  speech ; 
We  '11  put  the  matter  to  the  present  push. 
Good  Gertrude,  set  some  watch  over  your  son. 
This  grave  shall  have  a  living  monument : 
An  hour  of  quiet  shortly  shall  we  see;  330 

Till  then,  in  patience  our  proceeding  be. 

\_E{veunt, 


174 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  v.  Sc.  ii. 


Scene  II 

A  hall  in  the  castle. 

Enter  Hamlet  and  Horatio. 

Ham.  So  much  for  this,  sir :  now  shall  you  see  the 
other ; 
You  do  remember  all  the  circumstance? 
Hor.  Remember  it,  my  lord ! 

Ham.  Sir,  in  my  heart  there  was  a  kind  of  fight- 
ing, 
That  would  not  let  me  sleep:  methought  I  lay 
Worse  than  the  mutines  in  the  bilboes.     Rashly, 
And  praised  be  rashness  for  it,  let  us  know. 
Our  indiscretion  sometime  serves  us  well 
When  our  deep  plots  do  pall;  and  that  should 

learn  us 
/  There  's  a  divinity  that  shapes  our  ends,  10 

/  Rough-hew  them  how  we  will. 
Hor.  -  That  is  most  certain. 

Ham.  Up  from  my  cabin, 

My  sea-gown  scarf 'd  about  me,  in  the  dark 
Groped  I  to  find  out  them;  had  my  desire, 
Finger'd  their  packet,  and  in  fine  withdrew 
To  mine  own  room  again ;  making  so  bold. 
My  fears  forgetting  manners,  to  unseal 
Their  grand  commission;  where  I  found,  Ho- 
ratio,— 
O  royal  knavery ! —  an  exact  command. 
Larded  with  many  several  sorts  of  reasons,     20 

9.  "pall";  so  Q.  3;  F.  1,  -parle";  Pope,  •'fail"— I.  G. 
175 


Act  V.  Sc.  ii.  TRxlGEDY  OF  HAJNILET 

Importing   Denmark's   health  and   England's 

too, 
With,  ho!  such  bugs  and  goblins  in  my  life, 
That,  on  the  supervise,  no  leisure  bated, 
No,  not  to  sta,y  the  grinding  of  the  axe. 
My  head  should  be  struck  off. 

Hor.  Is  't  possible? 

Ham.  Here  's  the  commission :  read  it  at  more  leis- 
ure. 
But  wilt  thou  hear  now  how  I  divl  proceed? 

Hor.  I  beseech  you. 

Ham.  Being  thus  be-netted  round  with  villainies, — 
Or  I  could  make  a  prologue  to  my  brains,        30 
They  had  begun  the  play, — I  sat  me  down; 
Devised  a  new  commission;  wrote  it  fair: 
I  once  did  hold  it,  as  our  statists  do, 
A  baseness  to  write  fair,  and- labor 'd  much 
How  to  forget  that  learning;  but,  sir,  now 
It  did  me  yeoman's  service:  wilt  thou  know 
The  effect  of  what  I  wrote  ? 

Hor.  Aye,  good   my  lord.     » 

Ham.  An  earnest  conjuration  from  the  king. 
As  England  was  his  faithful  tributary, 
As  love  between  them  like  the  palm  might  flour- 
ish, 40 
As  peace  should  still  her  wheaten  garland  wear 
And  stand  a  comma  'tween  their  amities. 
And  many  such-like  'As'  es  of  great  charge, 

23.  "the  supervise,  no  leisure  bated";  the  supervise  is  the  looking 
over;  no  leisvre  bated  means  without  any  abatement  or  intermission 
of  trme.— H.  N.  H. 

31.  "they"  i.  e.  my  brains. — I.  G. 

176 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  v.  Sc.  ii. 

That,  on  the  view  and  knowing  of  these  con- 
tents, 
Without  debatement  further,  more  or  less, 
He  should  the  bearers  put  to  sudden  death, 
Not  shriving-time  allow'd. 
Hor.  How  was  this  seal'd? 

Ham.  A^Tiy,  even  in  that  was  heaven  ordinant. 
I  had  my  father's  signet  in  my  purse. 
Which  was  the  model  of  that  Danish  seal:      50 
Folded  the  writ  up  in  the  form  of  the  other; 
Subscribed  it ;  gave  't  the  impression ;  placed  it 

safely, 
The  changehng  never  known.     Now,  the  next 

day 
Was  our  sea-fight;  and  what  to  this  was  se- 
quent 
Thou  know'st  already. 
Hor.  So  Guildenstern  and  Rosencrantz  go  to  't. 
Ham.  Why,  man,  they  did  make  love  to  this  em- 
ployment ; 
They  are  not  near  my  conscience ;  their  defeat 
Does  by  their  own  insinuation  grow : 
'Tis  dangerous  when  the  baser  nature  comes    60 
Between  the  pass  and  fell  incensed  points 
Of  might j^  opposites. 
Hor.  Why,  what  a  king  is  this! 

Ham.  Does  it  not,  *think'st  thee,  stand  me  now 
upon — 
He  that  hath  kill'd  my  king,  and  whored  my 

mother ; 
Popp'd  in  between  the  election  and  my  hopes ; 

57,  68-80.  Omitted  in  Qq.— I.  G. 
XX— 12  177 


Act  V.  Sc.  ii.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

Thrown  out  his  angle  for  my  proper  Hfe, 
And  with  such  cozenage — is  't  not  perfect  con- 
science, 
To  quit  him  with  this  arm?  and  is  't  not  to  be 

damn'd, 
To  let  this  canker  of  our  nature  come 
In  further  evil?  70 

Hor.  It  must  be  shortly  known  to  him  from  Eng- 
land 
What  is  the  issue  of  the  business  there. 
Ham,.  It  will  be  short :  the  interim  is  mine ; 

And  a  man's  life  's  no  more  than  to  say  'One.' 
/'feut  I  am  very  sorry,  good  Horatio, 
That  to  Laertes  I  forgot  myself; 
For,  by  the  image  of  my  cause,  I  see 
The  portraiture  of  his :  I  '11  court  his  favors : 
But,  sure,  the  bravery  of  his  grief  did  put  me 
Into  a  towering  passion.     \ 
Hor.  Peace!  who  comes  here?        80 

Enter  Osric. 

Osr,  Your  lordship  is  riglit  welcome  back  to 
Denmark. 

Ham.  I  humbly  thank  you,  sir.  Dost  know 
this  water-fly? 

Hor.  No,  my  good  lord. 

Ham.  Thy  state  is  the  mor6  gracious,  for  'tis  a 
vice  to  know  him.  He  hath  much  land,  and 
fertile:  let  a  beast  be  lord  of  beasts,  and  his 
crib  shall  stand  at  the  king's  mess:  'tis  a 

78.  "court";  Rowe's  emendation  of  Ff.,  "count." — I.  G. 


178 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  V.  Sc.  ii. 

chougli,  but,  as  I  say,  spacious  in  the  posses-    '^^ 
sion  of  dirt. 

Osr.  Sweet  lord,  if  your  lordship  were  at  leis- 
ure, I  should  impart  a  thing  to  you  from 
his  majesty. 

Ham.  I  will  receive  it,  sir,  with  all  diligence  of 
spirit.  Put  your  bonnet  to  his  right  use; 
'tis  for  the  head. 

Osr,  I  thank  your  lordship,  it  is  very  hot. 

Ham.  No,  believe  me,  'tis  very  cold;  the  wind 
is  northerly.  100 

Osr.  It  is  indifferent  cold,  my  lord,  indeed. 

Ham.  But  yet  methinks  it  is  very  sultry  and 
hot,  or  my  complexion — 

Osr.  Exceedingly,  my  lord;  it  is  very  sultry, 
as  'twere, — I  cannot  tell  how.  But,  my 
lord,  his  majesty  bade  me  signify  to  you  that 
he  has  laid  a  great  wager  on  your  head :  sir, 
this  is  the  matter — 

Ham.  I  beseech  you,  remember — 

[Hamlet  moves  him  to  put  on  his  hat. 

Osr.  Nay,  good  my  lord;  for  mine  ease,  in  good  HO 
faith.  Sir,  here  is  newly  come  to  court 
Laertes ;  believe  me,  an  absolute  gentleman, 
full  of  most  excellent  differences,  of  very 
soft  society  and  great  showing:  indeed,  to 
speak  f eehngly  of  him,  he  is  the  card  or  cal- 
endar of  gentry,  for  you  shall  find  in  him 

103.  "or  my  complexion — ";  some  such  words  as  "deceives  me"  are 
understood.  But  Hamlet  must  be  supposed  to  break  off,  as  in  his 
next  speech,  not  to  be  interrupted  by  Osric. — H.  N.  H. 

111-150.  These  lines  are  omitted  in  Ff.,  which  read,  "Sir,  you  are 
not  ignorant  of  what  excellence  Laertes  is  at  his  weapon." — I.  G. 

179 


Act  V.  Sc.  ii.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

the   continent    of   what    part    a    gentleman 

would  see.  J^^  itl. fi- 
ll am.  Sir,  his  aennement  suffers  no  perdition 
in  you ;  though,  I  know,  to  divide  him  inven- 120 
torially  would  diz^y  the  arithmetic  of  mem- 
ory, and  yet  butTyaw  neither,  in  respect  of 
his  quick  sail.  But  in  the  verity  of  extol- 
ment,  I  take  him  to  be  a  soul  of  great  article, 
and  his  infusion  of  such  dearth  and  rareness, 
as,  to  make  true  diction  of  him,  his  semblable 
is  his  mirror,  and  who  else  would  trace  him, 
his  umbrage,  nothing  more. 

Osr.  Your  lordship  speaks  most  infallibly  of 
him.  130 

Ham,  The  concernancy,  sir?  why  do  we  wrap 
the  gentleman  in  our  more  rawer  breath? 

Osr.  Sir? 

Hor.  Is  't  not  possible  to  understand  in  another 
tongue  ?     You  will  do  't,  sir,  really. 

Ham.  What  imports  the  nomination  of  this 
gentleman  ? 

Osr.  Of  Laertes? 

Hor.  His  purse  is  empty  already ;  all 's  golden 
words  are  spent.  140 

Ham.  Of  him,  sir. 

Osr.  I  know  you  are  not  ignorant — 

Havi.  I  would  you  did,  sir ;  yet,  in  faith,  if  you 
did,  it  would  not  much  approve  me.  Well, 
sir? 

134.  "another  tongue";  Johnson  conj,  "a  mother  tongue";  Heath 
conj.  "a  mother  tongue?"  No  change  is  necessary;  it's  a  bit  of 
sarcasm. — I.  G. 

180 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  v.  Sc.  ii. 

Osr.  You  are  not  ignorant  of  what  excellence 
Laertes  is — 

Ham.  I  dare  not  confess  that,  lest  I  should  com- 
pare with  him  in  excellence;  but,  to  know  a 
man  well,  were  to  know  himself.  150 

Osr.  I  mean,  sir,  for  his  weapon ;  but  in  the  im- 
putation laid  on  him  by  them,  in  his  meed 
he  's  unf  ellowed. 

Ham.  What 's  his  weapon? 

Osr.  Rapier  and  dagger. 

Ham.  That 's  two  of  his  weapons :  but,  well. 

Osr.  The  king,  sir,  hath  wagered  with  him  six 
Barbary  horses :  against  tlie  which  he  has  im- 
poned,  as  I  take  it,  six  French  rapiers  and 
poniards,  with  their  assigns,  as  girdle,  160 
hanger,  and  so:  three  of  the  carriages,  in 
faith,  are  very  dear  to  fancy,  veiy  responsive 
to  the  hilts,  most  delicate  carriages,  and  of 
very  liberal  conceit. 

Ham.  What  call  you  the  carriages? 

Hor.  I  knew  you  must  be  edified  by  the  mar- 
gent  ere  you  had  done. 

Osr.  The  carriages,  sir,  are  the  hangers. 

Ham.  The  phrase  would  be  more  germane  to 
the  matter  if  we  could  carry  a  cannon  by  our  l^'^ 
sides :  I  would  it  might  be  hangers  till  then. 
But,    on:    six   Barbary   horses   against   six 
French  swords,  their  assigns,  and  three  lib- 

150.  "to  know  a  man  well  were  to  know  himself" ;  I  dare  not  pre- 
tend to  know  him,  lest  I  should  pretend  to  an  equality:  no  man 
can  completely  know  another,  but  by  knowing  himself,  which  is  the 
utmost  of  human  wisdom. — H.  N.  H. 

165-1 0(j.  Omitted  in  Ff.— I.  G. 

181 


Act  V.  Sc.  ii.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

eral-conceited  carriages ;  that 's  the  French 
bet  against  the  Danish.  Why  is  this  'im- 
poned,*  as  you  call  it? 

Osr.  The  king,  sir,  hath  laid,  sir,  that  in  a  dozen 
passes  between  yourself  and  him,  he  shall  not 
exceed  you  three  hits :  he  hath  laid  on  twelve 
for  nine ;  and  it  would  come  to  immediate  180 
trial  if  your  lordship  would  vouchsafe  the 
answer. 

Ham.  How  if  I  answ^er  'no'? 

Os7\  I  mean,  my  lord,  the  opposition  of  your 
person  in  trial. 

Ilajn.  Sir,  I  will  walk  here  in  the  hall :  if  it 
please  his  majesty,  it  is  the  breathing  time  of 
day  with  me;  let  the  foils  be  brought,  the 
gentleman  willing,  and  the  king  hold  his 
purpose,  I  will  win  for  him  an  I  can ;  if  not,  190 
I  will  gain  nothing  but  my  shame  and  the 
odd  hits. 

Osr.  Shall  I  redeliver  you  e'en  so? 

Ha7n.  To  this  effect,  sir,  after  what  flourish 
your  nature  will. 

Osr.  I  commend  my  duty  to  your  lordship. 

Ham.  Yours,  yours.  [Eocit  Osric.'\  He  does 
well  to  commend  it  himself;  there  are  no 
tongues  else  for  's  turn. 

Hor.  This  lapwing  runs  away  with  the  shell  on  200 
his  head. 

Ham.  He  did  comply  with  his  dug  before  he 
sucked  it.  Thus  has  he — and  many  more  of 
the  same  breed  that  I  know  the  drossy  age 

303-204.  "many    more    of   the   same    breed";   so   Qq.;    F.    1    reads, 

182 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  v.  Sc.  ii. 

dotes  on — only  got  the  tune  of  the  time  and 
outward  habit  of  encounter ;  a  kind  of  yesty 
collection,  which  carries  them  through  and 
through  the  most  fond  and  winnowed  opin- 
ions ;  and  do  but  blow  them  to  their  trial,  the 
bubbles  are  out.  210 

Enter  a  Lord. 

Lord.  My  lord,  his  majesty  commended  him  to 
you  by  young  Osric,  who  brings  back  to  him, 
that  you  attend  him  in  the  hall:  he  sends  to 
know  if  your  pleasure  hold  to  play  with 
Laertes,  or  that  you  will  take  longer  time. 

Ham.  I  am  constant  to  my  purposes;  they  fol- 
low the  king's  pleasure :  if  his  fitness  speaks, 
mine  is  ready;  now  or  whensoever,  provided 
I  be  so  able  as  now. 

Lord.  The  king  and  queen  and  all  are  coming  220 
down. 

Ham.  In  happy  time. 

Lord.  The  queen  desires  you  to  use  some  gentle 
entertainment  to  Laertes  before  you  fall  to 
play. 

Ham.  She  well  instructs  me.  \_Ea:it  Lord. 

Hor.  You  will  lose  this  wager,  my  lord. 

Ham.  I  do  not  think  so;  since  he  went  into 
France,  I  have  been  in  continual  practice; 
I  shall  win  at  the  odds.     But  thou  wouldst  230 
not  think  how  ill  all 's  here  about  my  heart : 
but  it  is  no  matter. 

"mine  more  of  the  same   Beauty";  Ff.   2,  3,  4,   "nine  more   of   the 
same  Beavy." — I.  G. 

210-255.  Omitted  in  Ff.— I.  G. 

183 


Act  V.  Sc.  ii.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

Hor.  Nay,  good  my  lord, — 

Ham.  It  is  but  foolery;  but  it  is  such  a  kind  of 

gain-giving    as    would    perhaps    trouble    a 

woman. 
Hor.  If  your  mind  dislike  anything,  obey  it. 

I  will  forestall  their  repair  hither,  and  say 

you  are  not  fit. 
Ham.  Not  a  whit ;  we  defy  augury :  there  is  240 

special  providence  in  the  fall  of  a  sparrow. 

If  it  be  now,  'tis  not  to  come;  if  it  be  not  to 

come,  it  will  be  now ;  if  it  be  not  now,  yet  it 

will  come:  the  readiness  is  all;  since  no  man 

has  aught  of  what  he  leaves,  what  is  't  to 

leave  betimes?     Let  be. 

Enter  King,  Queen,  Laertes,  and  Lords,  Osric  and 
other  Attendants  with  foils  and  gauntlets;  a 
table  and  flagons  of  wine  on  it. 

King.  Come,  Hamlet,  come,  and  take  this  hand 
from  me. 

[The  King  puts  Laertes^  hand  into  Hamlefs. 
Ham.  Give  me  your  pardon,  sir:  I  've  done  you 
wrong ; 

244-245.  "Since  no  man  has  aught  of  what  he  leaves,  what  is  't  to 
leave  betimes?  Let  he."  The  reading  is  taken  partly  from  the  Folios 
and  partly  from  the  Quartos;  a  long  list  of  proposed  emendations 
is  given  by  the  Cambridge  editors. — I.  G. 

Johnson  thus  interprets  the  passage:  "Since  no  man  knoios  aught 
of  the  state  which  he  leaves;  since  he  cannot  judge  what  other  years 
may  produce;  why  should  we  be  afraid  of  leaving  life  betimes?" 
Warburton's  explanation  is  very  ingenious,  but  perhaps  strains  the 
Poet's  meaning:  "It  is  true  that  by  death  we  lose  all  the  goods 
of  life;  yet  seeing  this  loss  is  no  otherwise  an  evil  than  as  we  are 
sensible  of  it;  and  since  death  removes  all  sense  of  it;  what  matters 
it  how  soon  we  lose  them?" — H.  N.  H. 

184 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  v.  Sc.  ii. 

But  pardon  't,  as  you  are  a  gentleman. 

This  presence  knows,  250 

And  you  must  needs  have  heard,  how  I  am 

punish'd 
With  sore  distraction.     What  I  have  done. 
That  might  your  nature,  honor  and  exception 
Roughly  awake,  I  here  proclaim  was  madness. 
Was  't  Hamlet  wrong'd  Laertes  ?  Never  Ham- 
let: 
If  Hamlet  from  himself  be  ta'en  away, 
And  when  he  's  not  himself  does  wrong  Laertes, 
Then  Hamlet  does  it  not,  Hamlet  denies  it. 
Who  does  it  then !■     His  madness:  if 't  be  so, 
Hamlet  is  of  the  faction  that  is  wrong'd;      260 
His  madness  is  poor  Hamlet's  enemy. 
Sir,  in  this  audience, 

Let  my  disclaiming  from  a  purposed  evil 
Free  me  so  far  in  your  most  generous  thoughts, 
That  I  have  shot  mine  arrow  o'er  the  house, 
And  hurt  my  brother. 

Laer.  I  am  satisfied  in  nature, 

Whose  motive,  in  this  case,  should  stir  me  most 
To  my  revenge:  but  in  my  terms  of  honor 
I  stand  aloof,  and  will  no  reconcilement. 
Till  by  some  elder  masters  of  known  honor    270 
I  have  a  voice  and  precedent  of  peace. 
To  keep  my  name  ungored.     But  till  that  time 
I  do  receive  your  ofFer'd  love  like  love 
And  will  not  wrong  it. 

Ham.  I  embrace  it  freely, 

2G2.  Omitted  in  Qq.— I.  G. 

266.  "brother" ;  so  Qq. ;   Ff.  read  "muther," — I.  G. 
185 


Act  V.  Sc.  ii.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

And  will  this  brother's  wager  frankly  play. 

Give  us  the  foils.     Come  on. 
Laer,  Come,  one  for  me. 

Ham.  I  '11  be  your  foil,  Laertes :  in  mine  ignorance 

Your  skill  shall,  like  a  star  i'  the  darkest  night. 

Stick  fiery  off  indeed. 
Laer.  You  mock  me,  sir. 

Ham.  No,  by  this  hand.  280 

King.  Give  them  the  foils,  young  Osric.     Cousin 
Hamlet, 

You  know  the  wager? 
Ham.  Very  well,  my  lord; 

Your  grace  has  laid  the  odds  o'  the  weaker  side. 
King.  I  do  not  fear  it;  I  have  seen  you  both: 

But  since  he  is  better'd,  we  have  therefore  odds. 
Laer.  This  is  too  heavy;  let  me  see  another. 
Ham.  This  likes  me  well.     These  foils  have  all  a 
length?  [They  prepare  to  play. 

Osr.  Aye,  my  good  lord. 
King.  Set  me  the  stoups  of  wine  upon  that  table. 

If  Hamlet  give  the  first  or  second  hit,  290 

Or  quit  in  answer  of  the  third  exchange, 

Let  all  the  battlements  their  ordnance  fire; 

The  king  shall  drink  to  Hamlet's  better  breath ; 

And  in  the  cup  anj^tnion  shall  he  throw, 

Richer  than  that  which  four  successive  kings 

In  Denmark's  crown  have  worn.     Give  me  tlie 
cups ; 

283.  "laid  the  odds";  the  king  liad  wagered  six  Barbary  horses  to 
a  few  rapiers,  poniards.  &o.;  that  is,  about  fwenfi/  to,  one.  These 
arc  the  odds  here  meant.  The  odds  the  king  means  in  the  next 
speech  were  twelve  to  nine  in  favor  of  Hamlet,  by  Laertes  giving 
him  three. — H.  N.  H. 

186 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  V.  Sc.  ii. 

And  let  the  kettle  to  the  trumpet  speak, 

The  trumpet  to  the  cannoneer  without, 

The   cannons   to   the   heavens,    the    heaven    to 

earth, 
'Now  the  king  drinks  to  Hamlet.'     Come,  be- 
gin; 300 
And  you,  the  judges,  bear  a  wary  eye. 

Ham.  Come  on,  sir. 

Laer.  Come,  my  lord.  [They  play. 

Ham.  One. 

Laer.  No. 

Ham.  Judgment. 

Osr.  A  hit,  a  very  palpable  hit. 

Laer.  Well;  again. 

King.  Stay;  give  me  drink.     Hamlet,  this  pearl  is 
thine ; 
Here  's  to  thy  health.. 
[Trumpets  sound,  and  cannon  shot  off  within. 
Give  him  the  cup. 

Ham.  I  '11  play  this  bout  first ;  set  it  by  awhile. 
Come.     [They  play.]     Another  hit;  what  say 
you? 

Laer.  A  touch,  a  touch,  I  do  confess. 

King.  Our  son  shall  win. 

Queen.  He  's  fat  and  scant  of  breath. 

Here,  Hamlet,  take  my  napkin,  rub  thy  brows : 
The  queen  carouses  to  thy  fortune,  Hamlet.  311 

Ham.  Good  madam ! 

King.  Gertrude,  do  not  drink. 

Queen.  I  will,  my  lord;  I  pray  you,  pardon  me. 

King.  [Aside]  It  is  the  poison'd  cup;  it  is  too  late. 

309.  "He's  fal  and  scant  of  breath" ;  lude  Glossary,  "Fat."- — I.  G. 

187 


Act  V.  Sc.  ii.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

Ham.  I  dare  not  drink  yet,  madam ;  by  and  by. 

Queen.  Come,  let  me  wipe  thy  face. 

Laer.  JNIy  lord,  I  '11  hit  him  now. 

King.  I  do  not  think  't. 

Laer.  [Amle'\   And  yet  it  is  almost  against  my 

conscience. 
Ham.  Come,  for  the  third,  Laertes:  you  but  dally; 

I  pray  you,  pass  with  your  best  violence;      i^-O 

I  am  afeard  you  make  a  wanton  of  me. 
Ijaer.  Say  you  so  ?  come  on.  [They  play. 

Osr.  Nothing,  neither  way. 
Laer.  Have  at  you  now! 

[Ijaertea  icounds  Hamlet j  then,  in  scafjling,  they 
change  rapiers,  and  Hamlet  vcounds  Laertes. 
King.  Part  them ;  they  are  incensed. 

Ham.  Nay,  come,  again.  [The  Queen  falls. 

Osr.  Look  to  the  queen  there,  ho ! 

Hor.  They  bleed  on  both  sides.     How  is  it,  my 

lord? 
Osr.  How  is  't,  Laertes  ? 

Laer.  Why,  as  a  woodcock  to  mine  own  springe, 
Osric; 

I  am  justly  kill'd  with  mine  own  treachery. 
Ham.  How  does  the  queen? 

King.  She  swounds  to  see  them  bleed. 

Queen.  No,  no,  the  drink,  the  drink, — O  my  dear 

Hamlet,—  331 

The  drink,  the  di'ink!  I  am  poison'd.        [Dies. 
Ham.  O  villainy !     Ho !  let  the  door  be  lock'd : 

Treachery!  seek  it  out.  [Laertes  falls. 

Laer.  It  is  here,  Hamlet:  Hamlet,  thou  art  slain; 

No  medicine  in  the  world  can  do  thee  good, 

188 


PRINCE  OF  DEXMARK  Act  V.  Sc.  ii. 

In  thee  there  is  not  half  an  hour  of  life; 
The  treacherous  instrument  is  in  thy  hand, 
Unbated  and  envenom'd:  the  foul  practice 
Hath  turn'd  itself  on  me;  lo,  here  I  lie,         340 
Never  to  rise  again :  th}'^  mother  's  poison'd : 
I  can  no  more :  the  king,  the  king  's  to  blame. 

Ham.  The  point  envenom'd  too! 

Then,  venom,  to  thy  work.       \^Stahs  the  King. 

All.  Treason!  treason! 

King.  O,  yet  defend  me,  friends ;  I  am  but  hurt. 

Ham.  Here,  thou  incestuous,  murderous,  damned 

Dane,  /a>rv^i-^ 

Drink  off  this  potion:  is  thy  uftion  here? 
Follow  my  mother.  [^King  dies. 

Laer.  He  is  justly  served; 

It  is  a  poison  temper'd  by  himself.  350 

Exchange  forgiveness  with  me,  noble  Hamlet: 
Mine  and  m}'  father's  death  come  not  upon  thee, 
Nor  thine  on  me!  [Dies. 

Ham.  Heaven  make   thee   free   of  it!     I    follow 
thee. 
I  am  dead,  Horatio.     Wretched  queen,  adieu! 
You  that  look  pale  and  tremble  at  this  chance, 
That  are  but  mutes  or  audience  to  this  act. 
Had  I  but  time — as  this  fell  sergeant,  death. 
Is  strict  in  his  arrest — O,  I  could  tell  you — 
But  let  it  be.     Horatio,  I  am  dead;  360 

Thou  livest ;  report  me  and  my  cause  aright 
To  the  unsatisfied. 

Hoj\  Never  believe  it . 

I  am  more  an  antique  Roman  than  a  Dane: 
Here  's  yet  some  liquor  left. 

18.Q 


Act  V.  So.  ii.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

Ham,  As  thou  'rt  a  man, 

Give  me  the  cup :  let  go ;  by  heaven,  I  '11  have  't. 

0  good  Horatio,  what  a  wounded  name, 
Things  standing  thus  unknown,  shall  live  be- 
hind me! 

If  thou  didst  ever  hold  me  in  thy  heart. 
Absent  thee  from  felicity  a  while, 
And  in  this  harsh  world  draw  thy  breath  in 
pain,  370 

To  tell  my  story. 

[March  afar  off,  and  shot  within. 
What  warlike  noise  is  this? 
Osr.  Young  Fortinbras,  with  conquest  come  from 
Poland, 
To  the  ambassadors  of  England  gives 
This  warlike  volley. 
Ham.  O,  I  die,  Horatio; 

The  potent  poison  quite  o'er-crows  my  spirit : 

1  cannot  live  to  hear  the  news  from  England; 
But  I  do  prophesy  the  election  lights 

On  Fortinbras:  he  has  my  dying  voice; 
So  tell  him,  ^vith  the  occurrents,  more  and  less. 
Which  have  solicited.     The  rest  is  silence.     380 

[Dies. 
Hor.  Now    cracks    a    noble   heart.     Good    night, 
sweet  prince. 
And  flights  of  angels  sing  thee  to  thy  rest ! 

[March  within. 
Why  does  the  drum  come  hither? 

Enter  Fortinbras,  and  the  English  Ambassadors, 
with  drum,  colors,  and  Attendants. 

367.  •'live";  so  Ff.;  Qq.,  'l  leave."— I.  G. 
IQO 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK  Act  V.  So.  ii. 

F^ort.  Where  is  this  sight? 

Hor.  What  is  it  you  would  see  ? 

If  aught  of  woe  or  wonder,  cease  your  search. 

Fort.  This  quarry  cries  on  havoc.     O  proud  death, 
What  feast  is  toward  in  thine  eternal  cell, 
That  thou  so  many  princes  at  a  shot 
So  bloodily  hast  struck? 

First  Amh.  The  sight  is  dismal; 

And  our  affairs  from  England  come  too  late: 
The  ears  are  senseless  that  should  give  us  hear- 
ing,  .'591 

To  tell  him  his  commandment  is  f  ulfill'd. 
That  Rosencrantz  and  Guildenstern  are  dead: 
Where  should  we  have  our  thanks  ? 

Hor.  Not  from  his  mouth 

Had  it  the  ability  of  life  to  thank  you : 
He  never  gave  commandment  for  their  death. 
But  since,  so  jump  upon  this  bloody  question. 
You  from  the  Polack  wars,  and  you  from  Eng- 
land, 
Are  here  arrived,  give  order  that  these  bodies 
High  on  a  stage  be  placed  to  the  view ;  400 

And  let  me  S23eak  to  the  yet  unknowing  world 
How  these  things  came  about :  so  shall  you  hear 
Of  carnal,  bloody  and  unnatural  acts. 
Of  accidental  judgments,  casual  slaughters. 
Of  deaths  put  on  by  cunning  and  forced  cause. 
And,  in  this  upshot,  purposes  mistook 
Fall'n  on  the  inventors'  heads:  all  this  can  I 
Truly  deliver. 

Fort.  Let  us  haste  to  hear  it, 

10.5.  "forced  cause";  so  Ff. ;  Qq.   read  "for  no  cause." — I.  G. 

191 


Act  V.  So.  ii.  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

And  call  the  noblest  to  the  audience. 

For  me,  with  sorrow  I  embrace  my  fortune :  410 

I  have  some  rights  of  memory  in  this  kingdom, 

Which  now  to  claim  my  vantage  doth  invite  me. 
Hor.  Of  that  I  shall  have  also  cause  to  speak. 

And  from  his  mouth  whose  voice  will  draw  on 
more: 

But  let  this  same  be  presently  perform'd, 

Even  while  men's  minds  are  wild;  lest  more 
mischance 

On  plots  and  errors  happen. 
Fort.  Let  four  captains 

Bear  Hamlet,  like  a  soldier,  to  the  stage ; 

For  he  was  likely,  had  he  been  put  on. 

To  have  proved  most  royally:  and,  for  his  pas- 
sage, ,  420 

The  soldiers'  music  and  the  rites  of  war 

Speak  loudly  for  him. 

Take  up  the  bodies:  such  a  sight  as  this 

Becomes  the  field,  but  here  shows  much  amiss. 

Go,  bid  the  soldiers  shoot. 

\_A  dead  march.     Eiveunt,  bearing  off  the  bodies: 
after  which  a  peal  of  ordnance  is  shot  off. 


192 


GLOSSARY 

By  Israel.  Gollancz,  M.A. 


A',  he;   (Ff.  "he");  II.  i.  58. 

About,  get  to  your  work!  II.  ii. 
638. 

Above;  "more  a,"  moreover;  II. 
ii.  128. 

Abeidoement  (Ff.  'Abridge- 
ments'), entertainment  for  pas- 
time (with  perhaps  a  second- 
ary idea  of  that  which  makes 
one  brief  and  shortens  tedious 
conversation);  II.  ii.  453. 

Absolute,  positive;  V.  i.  154;  per- 
fect, faultless  (used  by  Osric)  ; 
V.  ii.  111. 

Abstract,  summary,  or  epitome; 
(Ff.  "abstracts");  II.  ii.  566. 

Abuse,  delusion;  IV.  vii.  51. 

Abuses,  deceives;  II.  ii.  653. 

Acquittance,  acquittal;  IV.  vii. 
1. 

Act,  operation;  (Warburton  "ef- 
fect"); I.  ii.  205. 

Addition,  title;  I.  iv.  20. 

Address,  prepare;  I.  ii.  216. 

Admiration,  wonder,  astonish- 
ment; I.  ii.  192. 

Adulterate,  adulterous;  I.  v.  42. 

Eneas'  tale  to  Dido;  burlesque 
lines  from  an  imaginary  play 
written  after  the  grandiloquent 
manner  of  quasi-classical  plays 
(e.  g.  Nash's  contributions  to 
Marlowe's  Dido,  Queen  of  Car- 
thag<i);  II.  ii.  486. 

Afeahd,  afraid;  V.  ii.  321. 

XX— 13  1 


Affection,  affectation;  (Ff.  "af- 
fectation") ;  II.  ii.  482. 

Affront,  confront,  encounter; 
III.  i.  31. 

A-FooT,  in  progress;  III.  ii.  87. 

After,  according  to;  II.  ii.  570. 

Against,  in  anticipation  of;  III. 
iv.  50. 

Aim,  guess;  IV.  v.  9. 

Allowance,  permission  (accord- 
ing to  some,  "regards  of  a."= 
allowable  conditions) ;  II.  ii.  79. 

Amaze,  confound,  bewilder;  II.  ii. 
612. 

Amazement,  astonishment;  III. 
ii.  351. 

Ambition,  attainment  of  ambi- 
tion; III.  iii.  55. 

Amble,  move  in  an  affected  man- 
ner; III.  i.  153. 

Amiss,  misfortune;  IV.  v.  18. 

Anchor's,  Anchorite's,  hermit's; 

III.  ii.  233. 

"And  will  he  not  come  again," 
etc.;  a  well-known  song  found 
in  song-books  of  the  period, 
called  The  Milkmaid's  Dumps; 

IV.  V.  193. 

An    end,    on    end;     (Q.    1,    "on 

end");  I.  v.  19. 
\ngle,  angling-line;  V.  ii.  66. 
An  if,  if;  I.  v.  177. 
Annexment,  appendage;  III.  iii. 

21. 
Anon,  soou,  presently;  II.  ii.  525, 

93 


Glossary 


TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 


Answer,  reply  to  a  challenge; 
y.  ii.  183. 

Answer'd,  explained;  IV.  i.  16. 

Antic,  disguised,  fantastic;  I.  v. 
172. 

Antique,  ancient;  V.  ii.  363. 

Apart,  aside,  away;  IV.  i.  24. 

Ape;  "the  famous  ape,"  etc.,  a 
reference  to  an  old  fable  which 
has  not  yet  been  identified; 
III.  iv.  193-196 

Apoplex'd,  affected  with  apo- 
plexy; III.  iv.  T3. 

Appointbient,  equipment;  IV.  vi. 
17. 

Apprehension,  conception,  per- 
ception; II.  ii.  327. 

Approve,  affirm,  confirm,  I.  i.  29; 
credit,  make  approved,  V.  ii. 
144. 

Appurtenance,  proper  accom- 
paniment; II.  ii.  399. 

Akgal,  Clown's  blunder  for  ergu; 
V.  1.  13. 

Argument,  subject,  plot  of  a 
play;  II.  ii.  382. 

— — ,  subject  in  dispute;  IV.  iv. 
54. 

Arm  you,  prepare  yourselves; 
III.  iii.  24. 

Areas,  tapestry  (originally  made 
at  Arras) ;  II.  ii.  165. 

Articu:,  clause  in  an  agreement, 
I.  i.  94;  "a  soul  of  great  a." 
J.  e.  a  soul  with  so  many  qual- 
ities that  its  inventory  would 
be  very  large;  V.  ii.  124. 

As,  as  if;  II.  i.  91. 

,  as  if,  as  though;  IV.  v,  105; 

so;  IV.  vii.  159;  namely;  I.  iv. 
25. 

As'es,  used  quibblingly,  (Ff.  "As- 
sia" ;  Qq.  "as  sir");  V.  ii.  43. 

Aslant,  across;  IV.  vii.  168. 

Assault;  "of  general  a.",  "inci- 
dent to  all  men";  II.  i.  35, 


Assay,  trial,  test;  II.  ii.  71. 

,  try;  III.  i.  14. 

,  "make  a.",  "throng  to  the 

rescue";  III.  iii.  69. 
Assay's    of    bias,    indirect    aims, 

(such  as  one  takes  in  the  game 

of   bowls,   taking   into   account 

the  bias  side  of  the  bowl);  II. 

i.  65. 
Assigns,  appendages;   V.  ii.   160. 
Assistant,  helpful;  I.  iii.  3. 
Assurance,    security;    with    play 

upon    the    legal    sense    of    the 

word;  V.  i.  132. 
Attent,  attentive;  I.  ii.  193. 
Attribute,  reputation;   I.  iv.  22. 
Aught;  "hold'st  at  a.",  holds  of 

any  value,  values   at   all;   IV. 

iii.  63. 
Authorities,  oflSces"  of  authority, 

attributes  of  power;  IV.  ii.  17. 
Avouch,  declaration;  I.  i.  57. 
A-woRK,  at  work;  II.  ii.  527. 


Back,  "support  in  reserve";  IV. 

vii.  154. 
Baked-meats,     pastry;     "funeral 

b.",    cold     entertainment     pre- 
pared   for   the   mourners    at    a 

funeral;  I.  ii.  180. 
Ban,  curse;  III.  ii.  276. 
Baptista,     used     as    a     woman's 

name    (properly    a    man's,    cf. 

Tarn,  of  Shrew);  III.  ii.  256. 
Bare,  mere;  III.  i.  76. 
Bark'd    about,    grew    like    bark 

around;   I.  v.  71. 
Barren,   barren   of   wit,   foolish ; 

III.  ii.  50. 
Barr'd,  debarred,  excluded;  I.  ii. 

14. 
Batten,  grow  fat;  III.  iv.  67. 
Beaten,  well-worn,  familiar;   II. 

ii.  283. 
Beating,  striking;   (Q.  1,  "towl- 


194 


PKIJNCE  OF  DENMARK 


Glossary 


ing" ;  Collier  MS.,  "tolliiif/") ; 
I.  i.  39. 

Bkautied,  beautified;  III.  i.  51. 

Beautified,  beautiful,  endowed 
with  beauty,  (Theobald  "beati- 
fied"); II. 'ii.  110. 

Beaver,  visor;  movable  part  of 
the  helmet  covering  the  face; 
I.  ii.  230. 

Bedded,  lying  flat,  (?)  matted; 
III.  iv.  121, 

Bed-hid,  bed-ridden;  (Qq.  2-5 
"bed  red")  ;  I.  ii.  29. 

Beetles,  projects,  juts  over;  I. 
iv.  71. 

Behove,  behoof,  jirofit;  V.  i.  72. 

Bent,  straining,  tension;  (prop- 
erly an  expression  of  archery); 
II.' ii.  30, 

,  "to  the  top  of  my  b.",  to 

the  utmost;  III.  ii.  416. 

Ueshrew,  a  mild  oath;  II.  i.  113. 

Besmirch,  soil,  sully;  I.  iii.  15. 

Bespeak,  address,  speak  to;  II. 
ii.  142. 

Best;  "m  all  my  b.",  lo  the  ut- 
most of  my  power;  I.  ii.  120. 

Bestowed,  placed,  lodged;  II.  ii. 
565. 

Beteem,  allow,  permit;  I.  ii.  141. 

Bethought,  thought  of;  I.  iii.  90. 

Bilboes,  stocks  or  fetters  used 
for  prisoners  on  board  ship; 
V,  ii.  6, 

Bisson;  'b,  rheum,'  i.  e.  blinding 
tears;  II.  ii.  527. 

B  L  A  X  K,  "the  white  mark  at 
which  shot  or  arrows  were 
aimed"  (Steevens)  ;  IV.  i.  42. 

Blanks,  blanches,  makes  pale; 
III.  ii.  235, 

Blast  in  proof,  "a  metaphor 
taken  from  the  trying  or  prov- 
ing of  firearms  or  cannon, 
which  blast  or  burst  in  the 
proof"  (Steevens) ;  IV.  vii.  155. 


Blastjiexts,  blighting  influences; 

I.  iii.  42. 
Blazon;  "eternal  b.",  publication 

of  eternal  mysteries;    (perhaps 

'eternal'^  infernal,  or  used  'to 

express    extreme    abhorrence'); 

I.  V.  21. 
Blench,     start     aside;      II.     ii. 

647. 
Bloat  (Qq.  'blowt;'  Ff.  'blunt'), 

bloated;  III.  iv.  182. 
Blood,   passion;    IV,   iv,   58;   "b. 

and    judgement,"    passion    and 

reason;  III.  ii.  78. 
Blown,  full  blown,  in  its  bloom; 

III.  i.  169. 

Board,  address;  II.  ii.  172. 

Bodes,  forebodes,  portends;  I.  i. 
69. 

Bodkin,  the  old  word  for  dag- 
ger;  III.  i.  76. 

BoDYKiNs,  diminutive  of  l)ody; 
"the  reference  was  originally 
to  the  sacramental  bread;"  II. 
ii.  572. 

"Bonnie  Sweet  Robin,"  tiie  first 
words  of  a  well-known  song 
of  the  period  (found  in  Hol- 
borne's  Cittharn  Schoole,  1597, 
clc);  IV.  v.  190. 

Bore,  calibre,  importance  of  a 
question;  IV.  vi.  29. 

Borne  in  hand,  deceived  with 
false  hopes;  II.  ii.  67. 

Bound,  ready,  prepared;  I.  v.  6. 

,  was  bound;  I.  ii.  90. 

Bourn,  limit,  boundary;  III.  i. 
79. 

Brainish,  imaginary,  brain-sick; 

IV.  i.  11. 

Brave,  glorious;  II.  ii.  320. 
Bravery,     ostentation,     bravado; 

V.  ii.  79. 

Breathe,  whisper;  II.  i.  31. 
Breathing,     wliispering;     I.     iii. 
130. 


195 


Glossary 


TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 


Breathixg  Ti5rE,  time  for  exer- 
cise; V.  ii.  187, 

Bringing  home,  strictly,  the  bri- 
dal procession  from  church; 
applied  to  a  maid's  funeral; 
V.  i.  266. 

Broad,  unrestrained;  III.  iv.  -2. 

Broke,  broken;  IV.  v.  111. 

Brokers,  go  betweens;  I.  iii.  127. 

Brooch,  an  ornament  worn  in 
the  hat;  IV.  vii.  94. 

Brood;  "on  b.",  brooding;  III. 
i.  175. 

Bruit,  proclaim  abroad ;  I.  ii.  127. 

Budge,  stir,  move;  III.  iv.  18. 

Bugs,  bugbears;  V.  ii.  22. 

Bulk,  body;  (according  to 
some  abreast) ;  II.  i.  95. 

Business,  do  business;  I.  ii.  37. 

Buttons,  buds;  I.  iii.  40. 

Buz,  buz!  an  interjection  used 
to  interrupt  the  teller  of  a 
story  already  well  known;  II. 
ii.  425. 

Buzzers,  whisperers;  (Q.  1676, 
"whispers")  ;  IV.  v.  92. 

By  and  by,  immediately;  III.  ii. 
415. 

By'r  lady,  by  our  lady;  a  slight 
oath;  III.  ii.  147. 

Can,  can  do;  III.  iii.  65. 

Candied,  sugared,  flattering;  III. 
ii.  69. 

Canker,  canker  worm;  I.  iii.  39. 

Canon,  divine  law;  I.  ii.  132. 

Capable,  capable  of  feeling,  sus- 
ceptible; III.  iv.  127. 

Cap-a-pe,  from  head  to  foot 
(Old  Fr.  'de  cap  a  pie');  I.  ii. 
200. 

Capitol;  "I  was  killed  i'  the  C." 
(an  error  repeated  in  Jm/im.t 
Casar;  Caesar  was  killed  in  the 
Curia  Pompeii,  near  the  tlicatre 


of  Pompey  in  theCampus  Mar- 
tins); III.  ii.  114. 

Card;  "by  the  c",  with  precision 
(alluding  probably  to  the  ship- 
man's  card);  V.  i.  155. 

Carnal,  sensual;  V.  ii.  403. 

Carouses,  drinks;  V.  ii.  310. 

Carriage,  tenor,  import;  I.  i.  94. 

Carry  it  away,  gain  the  vic- 
tory; II.  ii.  387. 

Cart,  car,  chariot;  III.  ii.  170. 

Carve  for,  choose  for,  please;  I. 
iu.  20. 

Cast,  casting,  moulding;  I.  i.  73. 

,  contrive;  'c.  beyond  oursel- 
ves', to  be  over  suspicious  (? 
to  be  mistaken);  II.  i.  115. 

Cataplasm,  plaster;  IV.  vii.  144. 

Cautel,  deceit,  falseness;  I.  iii. 
15. 

Caviare  ;  "a  Russian  condiment 
made  from  the  roe  of  the 
sturgeon;  at  that  time  a  new 
and  fasliionable  delicacy  not 
obtained  nor  relished  by  the 
vulgar,  and  therefore  used  by 
Shakespeare  to  signify  any- 
thing above  their  comprehen- 
sion" (Xares) ;  II.  ii.  474. 

Cease,  extinction;  (Qq.  "cesse"; 
Pope  "decease")  ',  III.  iii.  15. 

Censure,  opinion;  I.  iii.  69. 

Centre,  i.  e.  of  the  Earth;  II.  ii. 
159. 

Cerements,  cloths  used  as 
shrouds  for  dead  bodies;  I.  iv. 
48. 

Chameleon,  an  animal  supposed 
to  feed  on  air;  III.  ii.  102. 

Change,  exchange;  I.  ii.  163. 

Chanson,  song  (used  affectedly; 
not  fouftd  elsewhere  in  Shake- 
speare; 'pious  chanson;'  so  Qq. ; 
Ff.  'pons  Chanson';  'pans  chan- 
son) ;  II.  ii.  452. 


196 


PKTXCE  OF  DENMARK 


Glossary 


Character,  hand-writing;  IV. 
vii.  all. 

Characteu,  write,  iniprinl ;  1.  iii. 
59. 

Charge,  expense;  IV.  iv.  47; 
load,  weight;  V.  ii.  43. 

Chariest,  most  scrupulous;  I.  iii. 
36. 

Checking  at;  "to  check  at,"  a 
term  in  falconry,  applied  to  a 
hawk  when  she  forsakes  her 
proj)er  game  and  follows  some 
other;  (Qq.  2,  3,  "the  King  at"; 
Qq.  4,  5,  6,  "liking  not")  ;  lY. 
vii.  63. 

Cheer,  fare;  III.  ii.  232. 

Chief,  chiefly,  especially ;  I.  iii. 
74. 

Chopixe,  a  high  cork  shoe;  II. 
ii.  4fi2. 

CnoHiis,  interpreter  of  the  action 
of  a  play;  III.  ii.  262. 

Chough,  a  sordid  and  wealthy 
boor;  {chuff  according  to  some, 
="chattering  crow") ;  V.  ii.  89. 

Cicatrice,  scar;  IV.  iii.  65. 

Circumstaxce,  circumlocution,  de- 
tail; I.  V.  127. 

,  "c.  of  thou^t",  details  of 

thought  which  lead  to  a  con- 
clusion; III.  iii.  83. 

Clapped,   applauded;    II.    ii.    366. 

Ci.EPE,  call;  I.  iv.  19. 

Climatures,  regions;  I.  i.  125. 

Closely,  secretly  •"HI.  i.  29. 

Closes  with,  agrees  with;  II.  i. 
45. 

Coagulate,  coagulated,  clotted ; 
II.  u.  502. 

Cockle  hat;  a  mussel-shell  in 
the  hat  was  the  badge  of  pil- 
grims bound  for  places  of  de- 
votion beyond  sea;  IV.  v.  25. 

Coil;  "mortal  c",  mortal  life, 
turmoil  of  mortality;  III.  i.  67. 

Cold,  chaste;  IV.  vii.  173. 


CoiDLV,  lightly;  IV.  iii.  67. 

C'ollatekai.,  indirect;  IV.  v.  209. 

Colleagued,  leagued;   I.  ii.  21. 

Collection,  an  attempt  to  col- 
lect some  meaning  from  it;  IV. 
V.  9. 

Columbines,  flowers  emblematic 
of   faithlessness;    IV.   v.    182. 

Combat,  duel;  I.  i.  84. 

Comma,  "a  c.  'tween  their  ami- 
ties," the  smallest  break  or 
sej)aration;  V.  ii.  42. 

Commandment,  command;  III. 
ii.  340. 

Comment;  "the  very  c.  of  thy 
sold,"  "all  thy  poj\'ers  of  ob- 
.servation";  (Ff.  "my  soul"); 
III.  ii.  88. 

Commerce,  intercourse;  III.  i. 
110. 

Compelled,  enforced;  IV.  vi.  19. 

Complete  steel,  full  armor;  I.  iv. 
52. 

Complexion,  temperament,  nat- 
ural disposition;  I.  iv.  27. 

Comply,  irte  ceremony;  II.  ii.  401. 

CoMPULSATORY,  Compelling;  (Ff. 
"compulsatiue") ;   I.  i.   103. 

Compulsive,  compulsory,  com- 
pelling; III.  iv.  86. 

Conceit,  imagination;  III.  iv. 
114. 

,  design;  "liberal  c",  taste- 
ful, elaborate  design;  V.  ii. 
164. 

CoNCERNANCY,  import,  meaning; 
V.  ii.  131. 

Conclusions,  experiments;  III. 
iv.  195. 

CoNDOLEMENT,  sorrow ;  I.  ii.  93. 

Confederate,  conspiring,  favor- 
ing; III.  ii.  274. 

Confine,  boundary,  territory;  I. 
i.  155. 

Confines,  places  of  confinement, 
prisons;  II.  ii.  257. 


197 


Glossary 


TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 


Confront,  outface;  Til.  iii.  47. 

CoNFi-sioN,  confusion  of  niind; 
(Rowe  '"confesion" ;  Pope  (in 
margin),  "confession");  III.  i. 
2. 

Congregation,  collection;  II.  ii. 
3i?3. 

Conor uiNG,  agreeing;  (F'f.  "co- 
niuring) ;  IV.  iii.  69. 

Conjunctive,  closely  joined;  IV. 
vii.  14. 

Consequence;  "in  this  c";  in  the 
following  way;  or,  'in  thus  fol- 
lowing up  your  remarks' 
(Schmidt);  Il.'i.  45. 

Considee'd,  fit  for  reflection;  "at 
our  more  c.  time,"  when  we 
have  more  time  for  considera- 
tion; II.  ii.  81. 

CoNsoNANCT,  accord,  friendship; 
II.  ii.  301. 

Constantly,  fixedly;  I.  ii.  235. 

Contagion,  contagious  thing;  IV. 
vlj.  148. 

Content,  please,  gratify;  III.  i. 
24. 

Continent,  that  whidi  contains; 
IV.  iv.  64;  inventory;  V.  ii. 
107. 

Contraction,  the  making  of  the 
marriage  contract;   III.  iv.  46. 

Contriving,  plotting;  IV.  vii. 
136. 

Conversation,  intercourse;  III. 
ii.  64. 

Converse,  conversation;  II.  i.  \2. 

Convoy,  conveyance;  I.  iii.  3. 

Coped  withal,  met  with;  III.  ii. 
64. 

Corse,  corpse;  I.  iv.  52. 

Coted,  overtook,  passed  by  (a 
term  in  hunting)  ;  II.  ii.  339. 

Couched,  concealed;  II.  ii.  494. 

Couch  we,  let  us  lie  down,  con- 
ceal ourselves;  V.  i.  254. 

Count,  account,  trial;  IV.  vii.  17. 


Countenance,  favor;  IV.  ii. 
16. 

Counter;  hounds  "run  counter" 
when  they  follow  the  scent  in 
tlie  wrong  direction;  a  term 
of  the  chase;  IV.  v.  112. 

Coi-nterfeit  presentment,  por- 
trait; III.  iv.  54. 

Couple,  join,  add;  I.  v.  93. 

Couplets;  "golden  c",  "the  pig- 
eon lays  only  two  eggs,  at  a 
time,  and  the  newly  hatched 
birds  are  covered  with  yellow 
down";  V.  i.  319. 

Cousin,  used  of  a  nephew;  I.  ii. 
64. 

Cozenage,  deceit,  trickery;  V.  ii. 
67. 

Cozen'd,  cheated;  III.  iv.  77. 

Cracked  within  the  ring; 
"there  was  formerly  a  ring  or 
circle  on  the  coin,  within  which 
the  sovereign's  head  was 
placed;  if  the  crack  extended 
from  the  edge  beyond  this  ring, 
the  ring  was  rendered  unfit  for 
currency"   (Douce);  II.  ii.  464. 

Crants,  garhind,  used  for  the 
chaplet  carried  before  a  maid- 
en's coffin,  and  afterwards  hung 
up  in  the  church;  (Ff.  'rites'; 
'Grants'  occurs  in  the  form 
corance  in  Chapman's  Alphon- 
sus,  (cf.  Lowland  Scotch 
crance) ;  otherwise  unknown  in 
English);   V.  i.  264. 

Credent,  credulous,  believing;  I. 
iii.  30. 

Crew,  did  crow;  I.  i.  147. 

Cried;  "c.  in  the  top  of  mine," 
were  higher  than  mine;  II.  ii. 
476. 

Cries  on,  cries  out;  V.  ii.  386. 

CRiaiEFUL,  criminal;  (Qq.  "crimi- 
naU");  IV.  vii.  7. 

Crocodile;  "woo't  eat  a  c",  re- 


198 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK 


Glossary 


ferriiig  probably  to  the  tough- 
ness of  its  skin;  V.  i.  308. 

Crook,  make  to  bend;  III.  ii.  70. 

Ciioss,  go  across  its  way;  (to 
cross  the  path  of  a  ghost  was 
to  come  under  its  evil  influ- 
ence) ;  I.  i.  1:37. 

Crow-flowers,  (probably)  butter- 
cups; IV.  vii.  171. 

Ckowner,  coroner;  V.  i.  25. 

Cry,  company;  (literally,  a  pack 
of  hounds);   III.  ii.  -297. 

Cue,  catch-word,  call;  (a  tech- 
nical stage  term) ;  II.  ii.  608. 

Cuffs,  fisticuffs,  blows;  II.  ii.  383. 

Cunnings,  respective  skill;  IV. 
vii.  156. 

Curb,  cringe;  "c.  and  woo",  bow 
and  beg,  "bend  and  truckle"; 
III.  iv.  155. 

Curiously,  fancifully;  V.  i.  335. 

CuRRENT.s,  courses;  III.  iii,  57. 


Daintier,  more  delicate;  V.  i.  79. 
Daisy,   emblem   of    failhlessness; 

IV.  V.  186. 

Dane,  King  of  Denmark;  I.  i.  15. 

Danskers,  Danes;  II.  i.  7. 

Day  and  night,  an  exclamation; 

I.  V.  164. 
Dearest,  greatest,  intensest;  I.  ii. 

182. 
Dearly,  heartily,   earnestly;   IV. 

iii.  46. 
Dearth,  high  value;  V.  ii.  125. 
Decline  upon,  sink  down  to;   I. 

V.  50. 

Declining,    falling,    going    from 

bad   to  worse;   II.  ii.  517. 
Defeat,  destruction;  II.  ii.  619. 
Defeated,  disfigured,  marred;   I. 

ii.  10. 
Defense,     skill     in     weapons, 

"science   of   defense";    IV.   vii. 

98. 


Definement,  definition;  V.  ii. 
119. 

Deject,  dejected;  III.  i.  165. 

Delated,  set  forth  in  detail,  prob. 
="diloted,"  (the  reading  of  the 
folios,  properly  "delated"=:  en- 
trusted, delegated);  I.  ii.  38. 

Deliver,  relate;  I.  ii.  193. 

Delver,  digger;  V.  i.  15. 

Demanded  of,  questioned  by;  IV. 
ii.  12. 

Denote,  mark,  portray;  I.  ii.  83. 

Desires,  good  wishes;  IT.  ii.  60. 

Dexterity,  nimbleness,  celerity; 
(S.  Walker,  "celerity");  I.  ii. 
157. 

Diet;  "your  worm  is  your  only 
emperor  for  d.",  a  grim  play 
of  words  upon  "the  Diet  of 
Worms";  IV.  iii.  23. 

Difference,  pro]ierly  a  term  in 
heraldry  for  a  slight  mark  of 
distinction  in  the  coats  of 
arms  of  members  of  the  same 
family;  hence  =  a  slight  diflFer- 
ence;  IV.  v.  185. 

Differences;  "excellent  d.",  dis- 
tinguishing qualities;  V.  ii.  113. 

Disappointed,  (?)  unappointed, 
unprepared;  (Pope  "unanoint- 
ed" ;  Theobald  "unappointed") ; 

I.  V.  77. 

Disclose,  hatching;  III.  i.  176. 
Disclosed,  hatched;  V.  i.  319. 
Discourse,    conversation;    III.    i. 

108. 
;    "d.    of    reason,"    /.    e.    the 

reasoning  faculty;   I.  ii.   150. 
Discovery,  disclosure,  confession; 

II.  ii.  312. 

Disjoint,  disjointed;  I.  ii.  20. 
Dispatch,   hasten    to    get    ready; 

III.  iii.  3. 

Dispatch'd,  deprived;  T.  v.  75. 
Disposition,  nature;  I.  iv.  55. 
Distemper;    "vour   cause   of   d.", 


199. 


Glossary 


TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 


the  cause  of  your  disorder;  III. 
ii.  363. 

Distempered,  disturbed;  III.  ii. 
322. 

Distill'd,  dissolved,  melted;  (so 
Q.  2;  F.  1,  "bestil'd");  I.  ii. 
204. 

Distract,  distracted;  IV.  v.  2. 

Distrust;  "I  d.  you,"  i.  e.  I  am 
anxious  about  you;  III.  ii.  180. 

DivuLGixG,  being  divulged;  IV.  i. 
22. 

Do;  "to  do,"  to  be  done;  IV.  iv. 
44. 

Document,  precept,  instruction; 
IV.  V.  180. 

Dole,  grief;  I.  ii.  13. 

Doom,  Doomsday;  III.  iv.  50. 

Doubt,   suspect,   fear;   I.  ii.   257. 

DouTs,  does  out,  extinguislies ; 
(F.  1,  "doubts";  Qq.  F.  2, 
"drownes";  Ff.  3,  4,  "drowns")  ; 
IV.  vii.  193. 

DowN-GY\'ED,  pulled  down  like 
gyves  or  fetters;  (so  F.  1; 
Qq.  2,  3,  6,  "doicne  gyved"; 
Qq.  4,  5,  "dorvne  gyred";  Theo- 
bald "down-gyred";  J.  e.  rolled 
down)  ;  II.  i.  80. 

Dhab,  strumpet;  II.  ii.  636. 

Dreadfui.,  full  of  dread;  I.  ii. 
207. 

Drift;  "d.  of  circumstance," 
round-about  methods;  (Qq.  "d. 
of  conference" ;  Collier  conj.  "d. 
of  confidence") ;  III.  i.  1. 

Drives  at,  rushes  upon;  II.  ii. 
511. 

Ducats,  gold  coins;  II.  ii.  393. 

DuuL  THY  palm,  t.  c.  "make  cal- 
lous thy  palm  by  shaking  every 
man  by  the  hand"  (Johnson) ; 
I.  iii.  64. 

Dumb  show,  a  show  unaccom- 
panied by  words,  preceding  the 
dialogue  and  foreshadowing  the 


action  of  a  play,  introduced 
originally  as  a  compensatory 
addition  to  Senecan  dramas, 
wherein  declamation  took  the 
place  of  action;  III.  ii.  151- 
152. 

Dupp'd,  opened;  IV.  v.  54. 

Dye,  tinge;  (F.  1,  "the  eye/'  Qq. 
2-5,  "that  die") ;  I.  iii.  128. 


Eager,  sharp,  sour;  (Ff.  "Ay- 
gre";  Knight  "aigre");  I.  v. 
69. 

Eale,  ?  =  e'ile  (i.  e.  "evil"),  v. 
Note;  I.  iv.  36, 

Ear;  "in  the  e.",  within  hearing; 
III.  i.  195. 

Easiness,  unconcernedness ;  V.  i. 
77. 

Eat,  eaten ;  IV.  iii.  30. 

Ecstasy,  madness;  II.  i.  102. 

Edge,  incitement;  III.  i.  26. 

Effects,  purposes;  III.  iv.  129. 

EisEL,  vinegar;  the  term  usually 
employed  by  older  English  wri- 
ters for  the  bitter  drink  given 
to  Christ  (=:late  Lat.  acetil- 
lum) ;  [Q.  (i.)  "vessels";  Q. 
2,  "Esill";  Ff.  "Esile"];  V.  i. 
208. 

Elsixore,  the  residence  of  the 
Danish  kings,  famous  for  the 
royal  castle  of  Kronborg,  com- 
manding the  entrance  of  the 
Sound;  II.  ii.  284. 

Emulate,  emulous;  I.  i.  83. 

Enact,  act;  III.  ii.  112. 

Enactures,  actions;   III.  ii.  212. 

Encompassment,  circumvention; 
II.  i.  10. 

Encumber'd,  folded;  I.  v.  174. 

Engaged,  entangled;   III.  iii.  69. 

Enginer,  engineer;  III.  iv.  206. 

Enseamed,  defiled,  filthy;  III.  iv. 
90. 


200 


PRINCE  OF  DEN]\[ARK 


Glossary 


Entertainment;  "gentle  e.", 
show  of  kindness;  V.  ii.  22^. 

Entreatments,  solicitations ;  I. 
iii.  122. 

Enviously,  angrily;  IV.  v.  6. 

Erring,  wandering,  roaming;  I. 
i.   154. 

Escoted,  maintained;  II.  ii.  373. 

Espials,  spies;  III.  i.  32. 

Estate,  rank;  V.  i.  353. 

Eternal,  ?=:  internal;  V.  ii. 
387;    {cp.  "(eternal)   blazon)." 

Even,  honest,  straightforward; 
II.  ii.  304. 

Even  Christian,  fellow-Chris- 
tian; V.  i.  33. 

Event,  result,  issue;  IV.  iv.  41. 

Exception,  objection;  V.  ii.  253. 

PjXCRements,  excrescences,  out- 
growth; (used  of  hair  and 
nails);  III.  iv.  131. 

Expectancy,  hope;  (Qq.  "expec- 
tation"); III.  i.  163. 

Expostulate,  discuss;  II.  ii.  86. 

Express,  expressive,  perfect;  II. 
ii.  336. 

Extent,  behavior;  II.  ii.  401. 

Extolment,  praise;  V.  ii.  133, 

Extravagant,  vagrant,  wander- 
ing beyond  its  limit  or  con- 
fine; I.  i.  154. 

Extremity';  "in  ex.",  going  to  ex- 
tremes; III.  ii.  183. 

Eyases,  unfledged  birds;  prop- 
erly, young  hawks  taken  from 
the  nest  (Fr.  niais);  II.  ii.  365. 

Eye,  presence;  IV.  iv.  6. 

Eyrie,  a  brood  of  nestlings; 
properly,  an  eagle's  nest;  II. 
ii.  364. 

Faculties,  peculiar  nature;  (Ff. 
"facuUy") ;  II.  ii.  610. 

Faculty,  ability,  (Qq.  "facul- 
ties"); II.  ii.  335. 

Fair,  gently;  IV.  i.  36. 


Falls,  falls  out,  happens;  IV.  vii. 

71. 
Fancy;  "express'd  in  f,",  gaudy; 

I.  iii.  71. 

Fang'd,  having  fangs;  (accord- 
ing to  some,  "deprived  of 
fangs") ;  III.  iv.  303. 

Fantasy,  imagination;  I.  i.  33; 
whim,  caprice;   IV.  iv.  61. 

Fardels,  packs,  burdens;  III.  i. 
76. 

Farm,  take  the  lease  of  it;  IV. 
iv.  30. 

Fashion,  a  mere  temporary 
mood;  I.  iii^  6;  "f.  of  himself," 
i.  e.  his  usual  demeanor;  III. 
i.  185. 

Fat,  fatten;  IV.  iii.  33. 

Fat;  "f,  and  scant  of  breath," 
?z=out  of  training  (but,  prob- 
ably, the  words  were  inserted 
owing  to  the  physical  char- 
acteristics of  Burbage,  who 
sustained  the  part  of  Hamlet) ; 
V.  ii.  309. 

Favor,  charm;  IV.  v.  193;  ap- 
pearance; V.  i.  332. 

Fawning,  cringing;  (Ff.  1,  2,  3, 
"faining";  F.  4,  "feigning"); 
III.  ii.  71. 

Fay,  faith;  (Ff.  "fey");  II.  ii. 
278. 

Fear,  object  of  fear;  III.  iii.  25. 

,  fear  for;   I.  iii.  51;  IV.  v. 

134. 

Feature,  figure,  form;  (Qq. 
"stature");   III.  i.   169. 

Fee,  payment,  value;  I.  iv.  65; 
fee-simple;  IV.  iv.  22. 

Fellies,   the   outside   of   wheels; 

II.  ii.  534. 

Fellowship,  partnership;  III.  ii. 

397. 
Fennel,  the  symbol  of  flatter}'; 

iv.  V.  183. 
Fetch,   artifice;   "fetch   of   war- 


201 


Glossary 


TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 


rant,"     justifiable     stratagem; 
(Qq.  "/.  of  wit");  II.  i.  -M. 
P'ew;   "in    f.",   in   few   words,   in 

brief;  I.  iii.  126. 
Fierce,  wild,  terrible;  I.  i.  131. 
Fiery  quickxess,  hot  haste;   IV. 

iii.  48. 
Figure,  figure  of  speech;   II.   ii. 

98. 
Find,  find  out,  detect;  III.  i.  196. 
Fixe    of    his    fixes,   end    of   his 

fines;    with    a    play    upon    the 

other  sense  of  the  word;  V,  i. 

120. 
Fire   (dissyllabic)  ;  I.  iii,  120. 
First,  i.  e.  first  request;  II.  ii.  61. 
FisiiMoxGER,    probably    used    in 

some    cant    coarse    sense,     (?) 

"seller  of  women's  chastity"); 

II.  ii.  176. 
Fit,  prepared,  ready;  V.  ii.  239. 
FiTXKss,  consenience;   V.  ii.  217. 
Fits,  liefits;  I.  iii.  25. 
Flaw,  gust  of  wind;  V.  i.  247. 
Flush,      in      full      vigor;       (Ff. 

•'frt'sh")  ;  III.  iii.  81. 
Fi-usiiixG,  redness;  "had  left  the 

f.",  i.  e.  had  ceased  to  jiroduce 

redness;  I.  ii.  155. 
Foil,    used    with    play    upon    its 

two  senses,  (i.)  blunted  rapier, 

(ii.)    gold-leaf  used  to  set   oft" 

a  jewel;  V.  ii.  277. 
FoxD,  foolish;  I.  v.  99. 
FoNu  AXD  wixxowED,  fooUsli  and 

over-refined;     (so    Ff. ;    Q.    2, 

"prophane      and      trennowed" ; 

Johnson,  "sane  and  renowned"  \ 

Warburton,   "fann'd   and   ic'ui- 

norved");  V.  ii,  208. 
Fools  of  xature,  made  fools  of 

by  nature;  I.  iv,  54, 
Foot;   "at   f,"   at   his  heels;    IV. 

iii,  59. 
For,  as  for;  I.  ii.  112;  in  place 


of,  instead;  V.  i.  262;  "for  all," 
once  for  all;  I.  iii,  1.31;  "for 
and,"  and  also;  V,  i.  106. 

Fordo,  destroy;  V.  i.  253. 

Fore  kxowing,  foreknowledge, 
prescience;  I.  i.  134. 

Forestalled,  prevented;  III.  iii. 
49. 

Forged  process,  false  statement 
of  facts;  I.  V.  37. 

Forgery,  invention,  imagination; 
IV.  vii.  90. 

Forgoxe,  given  up;  II.  ii,  315, 

Fortune's  star,  an  accidental 
mark  or  defect;  I.  iv.  32. 

Forward,  disposed;  III.  i,  7. 

Four;  "f.  hours",  probably  used 
for  indefinite  time;  (Hanmer 
"for");  II.  ii.  162. 

Frame,  order,  sense;  III.  ii.  331. 

Free,  willing,  not  enforced;  IV, 
iii,  66;  innocent;  II.  ii.  608; 
III,  ii,  258. 

Fret,  vex,  annoy;  with  a  play 
upon  7;vr=:'small  lengths  of 
wire  on  which  the  fingers  press 
the  strings  in  playing  the  gui- 
tar'; III.  ii.  403. 

Fretted,  carved,  adorned;  II.  ii, 
321. 

Friexdixg,     friendliness;     I.     v. 

186. 
Frighted,  frightened,  affrighted; 

III.  ii.  285. 
From,   awav    from,   contrary   to; 

III.  ii.  25. 
Front,  forehead;  III.  iv.  56, 
Fruit,     dessert;      (Ff,     1,     2, 

"newes")  ;  II.  ii.  52. 
Fruits,  consequences;  II,  ii,  147. 
Function,    the    whole    action    of 

the  body;  II,  ii.  603. 
Fust,    becomes     fusty,     mouldy; 

(Rowe,  "rust")  ;  IV.  iv.  39. 


20^ 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK 


Glossary 


Gaged,  pledged;  I.  i.  91. 

GAiy-GiviKG,  misgiving;  V.  ii. 
235. 

Gait,  proceeding;  I.  ii.  31. 

Galled,  wounded,  injured;  ("let 
the  galled  jade  wince,  our 
withers  are  unwrung,"  prover- 
bial); III.  ii.  259. 

,  sore,  injured  bv  tears;  I.  ii. 

155. 

Galls,  hurts,  injures;  I.  iii.  39. 

Garb,  fashion,  manner;  II.  ii. 
401. 

Gender;  "general  g.",  common 
race  of  men;  IV.  vii.  18. 

General,  general  public,  com- 
mon people;  II.  ii.  474. 

Gentry,  courtesy;  II.  ii.  22;  V.  ii. 
115. 

Germane,  akin;  V.  ii.  169. 

Gib,  a  tom-cat,  (a  contraction  of 
Gilbert);  III.  iv.  190. 

Gibber,  gabble;  I.  i.  IIG. 

Gibes,  jeers;  V.  i.  216. 

(lis,  a  corruption  of  Jesus;  IV. 
V.  60. 

Giving  out,  profession,  indica- 
tion; I.  V.  178. 

Glimpses,  glimmering  light;  I.  iv. 
53. 

Globe,  head;  I.  v.  97. 

Go  ABOUT,  attempt;  III.  ii.  374. 

Go  back  again,  i.  e.  refers  to 
what  once  was,  but  is  no  more; 
IV.  vii.  27. 

God-a-mercy,  God  have  mercy; 
II.  ii.  174. 

God  be  wi'ye,  good  bye;  (Qq. 
"God  buy  ye";  Ff.  1,  2,  3,  "God 
buy  you";  F.  4,  "God  b'  w' 
you") ;  II.  i.  69. 

God  'ild  you,  God  yield,  reward 
you;  IV.  V.  41. 

God  kissing  carrion,  said  of 
"the  sun  breeding  maggots  in 
a    dead    dog";     (Warlnirtou's 


eiiiPiuhition  of  Qq.  and  Ff. 
'good  kissinfi  carrion") ;  II.  ii. 
184. 

Good,  good  sirs;  I.  i.  70. 

Good  my  brother,  my  good 
brother;  I.  iii.  4G. 

Goose-quills;  "afraid  of  g.",  i.  e. 
afraid  of  being  satirized;  II.  ii. 
370. 

Go  TO,  an  exclamation  of  impa- 
tience; I.  iii.  112. 

Grace,  honor;  I.  ii.  124. 

Gracious,  j.  e.  Gracious  king; 
III.  i.  43. 

,  benign,  full  of  blessing;  I. 

i.  164. 

Grained,  dyed  in  grain;  III.  iv.  90. 

Grating,  oftending,  vexing;  III. 
i.  3. 

Green,  inexperienced;  I.  iii.  101. 

Greenly,  foolishly;  IV.  v.  85. 

CJross,  great,  palpable;  IV.  iv.  46. 

,  "in  the  g.",  i.  e.  in  a  gen- 
eral way ;   I.  i.  68. 

(iRouNDLiNGS,  rabble  who  stood 
in  the  pit  of  the  theatre,  which 
had  neitiier  boarding  nor 
benches;  III.  ii.  13. 

Grlnt,  groan;  III.  i.  77. 

Gules,  red;  a  term  of  heraldry; 
II.  ii.  497. 

Gulf,  whirlpool;  III.  iii.  16. 

Habit;  "outward  h.",  external 
politeness;  V.  ii.  206. 

Hands.vw  ^  heronshaw,  or  hern- 
sew,=  heron;  ("when  the  wind 
is  southerly  I  know  a  hawk 
from  a  h.",  for  the  l)irds  fly 
with  the  wind,  and  wlien  it 
is  from  the  south,  the  sports- 
man would  have  his  back  to 
the  sun  and  be  able  to  distin- 
guish them) ;  II.  ii.  410. 

Handsome;  "more  h.  iiian  Ane"; 
"handsome      denotes      genuine 


203, 


Glossary 


TRAGEDY  OF  HAMI.ET 


natural  beauty;  fne  artificial 
labored  beauty"  (Delius);  II. 
ii.  484. 

Hap,  happen;  I.  ii.  249. 

Haply,  perchance,  perhaps;  HI. 
i.  181. 

Happily,  haply,  perchance;  (ac- 
cording to  some  =  luckily ) ;  I. 
i.  134. 

Happy;  "in  h,  time",  in  good 
time  (d  la  bonne  heiire) ;  V.  ii. 

Haps,  fortune;  IV.  iii.  73. 

Hatchment,  an  armorial  escut- 
cheon ased  at  a  funeral;  IV.  v. 
217. 

Haunt;  "out  of  h.",  from  the 
haunts  of  men;  IV.  i.  18. 

Have;  "you  h.  me,"  you  under- 
stand me;  II.  i.  68. 

Have  after,  let  us  go  after,  fol- 
low him;  I.  iv.  89. 

Have  at  you,  I'll  begin,  I'll  hit 
you;  V.  ii.  324. 

Havior,  deportment;  I.  ii.  81. 

Head,  armed  force;  IV.  v.  103. 

Health;  "spirit  of  health", 
"healed  or  saved  spirit";,  I.  iv. 
40. 

Heabsed,  coffined;  I.  iv.  47. 

Heat,  anger;  III.  iv.  4. 

Heavy;   "'tis  h.",   it   goes   hard; 

III.  iii.  84. 

Hebenon  (so  Ff.;  Qq.,  "hebo- 
na"),  probably  henbane,  but 
possibly  (i.)  the  yew,  or  (ii.) 
the  j  uice  of  ebony ;  I.  v.  62. 

Hecate,  the  goddess  of  mischief 
and  revenge  (dissyllabic);  III. 
ii.  276. 

Hectic,  continual  fever;  IV.  iii. 
71. 

Hedge,  hedge  round,  encompass; 

IV.  v.  125. 

Height;  "at  h.",  to  the  utmost; 
I.  iv.  21. 


Hevt,  hold,  seizure;  III.  iii.  88. 

Heraldry;  "law  and  h.",  i.  e. 
heraldic  law;  I.  i.  87. 

Herb  of  grace,  rue;  IV.  v. 
184. 

Hercules  and  his  load  too; 
possibly  an  allusion  to  the 
Globe  Theatre,  the  sign  of 
which  was  Hercules  carrying 
the  Globe;  II.  ii.  388. 

Herod,  a  common  character  in 
the  mystery  plays,  represented 
as  a  furious  and  violent  ty- 
rant; III.  ii.  17. 

Hey-day,  frolicsome  wildness; 
III.  iv.  69. 

Hey  non  nonny,  meaningless  re- 
frain common  in  old  songs;  IV. 
V.  167. 

Hic  ET  UBiQUE,  here  and  every- 
where; I,  v.  150. 

Hide  fox,  and  all  after,  a  diil- 
dren's  hide-and-seek  game;  IV. 
ii.  32. 

Hies,  hastens;  I.  i.  154. 

HiLLo,  a  falconer's  cry  to  recall 
his  hawk;  I.  v.  116. 

Him,  he  whom;  II.  i.  42. 

His,  its;  I.  iii.  60. 

Hoar  leaves,  the  silvery-grey 
underside  of  willow  leaves;  IV. 
vii.  169. 

Hobby-horse,  a  principal  figure 
in  the  old  morris  dances,  sup- 
pressed at  the  Reformation; 
III.  ii.  149. 

Hoist,  j.  e.  hoised,  hoisted;  III. 
iv.  207. 

Holds  quantity,  keep  their  rel- 
ative proportion;  III.  ii.  182. 

Hold  up,  continue;  V.  i.  36. 

Home,  thoroughly;  III.  iii.  29. 

Honest,  virtuous;  III.  i.  103. 

Honesty,  virtue;  III.  i.  107. 

H  o  o  D  M  A  N-BLiND,  blind  man's 
buff;  III.  iv.  77. 


204 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK 


Glossary 


Hoops,    bands    (Pope,   "hooks"); 

I.  iii.  63. 
HouH  (dissyllabic) ;  I.  iv.  3. 
Hugger-mugger;   "in  h."  t.   e.  in 

secrecy  and  in  haste;  IV.  v.  86. 
Humorous,    full    of    humors    or 

caprices;     "the     h.     man",     a 

standing    character    of    many 

plays  of  the  period;  II.  ii.  346. 
Husband,  manage;  IV.  v.  140. 
Husbandry,    thrift,   economy;    I. 

iii.  77. 
Hush  (used  as  adjective);  II.  ii. 

525. 
Hyperion,  Phoebus  Apollo;  taken 

as   the  type   of  beauty;   I.   ii. 

140. 
Hyrcanian    beast,   the   beast   of 

Hyrcania,  i.  e.  the  tiger;  II.  ii. 

490. 


I,=(?)  «ay";  III.  ii.  300. 

Idle,    unoccupied     ( ?     frivolous, 

light-headed) ;  III.  ii.  99. 
Ilium,    the   palace   in   Troy;    II. 

ii.  513. 
Ill-breeding,  hatching   mischief; 

IV.  V.  15. 
Illume,  illumine;  I.  i.  37. 
Image,   representation,   reproduc- 
tion; III.  ii.  254. 
Immediate;  "most  i.",  nearest;  I. 

ii.  109. 
Impart,   (?)   bestow  myself,  give 

all    I    can    bestow ;    perhaps  ^ 

"impart  't"  i.  e.  impart  it  (the 

throne)  ;  I.  ii.  112. 
Impasted,  made  into  paste;  II.  ii. 

499. 
Imperious,  imperial;  V.  i.  244.  • 
Implorators,    implorers;     I.     iii. 

129. 
Imponed,  staked;  V.  ii.  158. 
Important,   urgent,    momentous; 

111.  iv.  108. 


Importing,    having    for    import; 

I.  ii.  23. 

concerning;  V.  ii.  21. 

Imposthume,  abscess;  IV.  iv.  27. 

Impress,  impressment,  enforced 
public  service;  I.  i.  75. 

Imputation,  reputation;  V.  ii. 
151. 

In,  into;  III.  iv.  95. 

Incapable,  insensible  to,  unable 
to  realize;  IV.  vii.  180. 

Incorporal,  incorporeal,  immate- 
rial; (Q.  1676,  "incorporeal")', 
III.  iv.  118. 

Incorpsed,  incorporate;  IV.  vii. 
88. 

Incorrect,  not  subdued;  I.  ii.  95. 

Indentures;  "a  pair  of  i.", 
"agreements  were  usually  made 
in  duplicate,  both  being  writ- 
ten on  the  same  sheet,  which 
was  cut  in  a  crooked  or  in- 
dented line,  so  that  the  parts 
would  tally  with  each  other 
upon  comparison";  V.  i.  124. 

Index,  prologue,  preface;  III.  iv. 
52. 

Indict,  accuse;  II.  ii.  482. 

Indifferent,    ordinary,    average; 

II.  ii.  235. 

,  indifferently,  fairly;   III.  i. 

124. 

Indifferently,  pretty  well;  III. 
ii.  45. 

Indirections,  indirect  means;  II. 
i.  66. 

Individable;  "scene  ind.",  prob- 
ably a  play  in  which  the  unity 
of  place  is  preserved;  11.  ii. 
432. 

Indued,  suited;  IV.  vii.  181. 

Inexplicable,  unintelligible, 
senseless;  III.  ii.  15. 

Infusion,  qualities;   V.  ii.  125. 

Ingenious,  intelligent,  conscious; 
V.  i.  280. 


JOS 


Glossary 


TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 


IxHEUiTOB,  possessor;  V.  i.  126. 
luHiBiTiox,   prohibition;   a   tech- 
nical   terra    for    an    order    re- 
straining or  restricting  tlietitri- 
cal  performances;  II.  ii.  356. 
I^NxovATiox,     change      (for     the 
orse) ;   "the   late   i."    perhaps 
Iludes   to   the   license   granted 
n.  30,  1603-4,  to  the  children 
the    Revels   to   play   at    the 
ackfriars  Theatre,   and  else- 
ere   (according  to  some,  the 
fcrence  is  to  "the  practice  of 
troducing    polemical    matter 
n  the  stage") ;  II.  ii.  357. 
KQLiuE,  enquiry;  II.  i,  4. 
IxsiNUATiox,      artful     intrusion, 

meddling;  V.  ii.  59. 
Instance,  example;  IV.  v.  164. 
IxsTAxcEs,  motives;  III.  ii.  196. 
IxsTAXT,     immediate,      instanta- 
neous; I.  V,  71. 
IxTEXTs,     intentions,     purposes; 
(Ff.,  "events";  Warburton  "ad- 
vent") ;  1.  iv.  4J. 
Ix  THAT,  inasmudi  as;  I.  ii.  31. 
Ixvbn'd,      entombed,      interred; 

(Qq.,  "interr'd") ;  I.  iv.  49. 
Ix^vESTMEXTS,      vcstmeuts,      ves- 
tures; I.  iii.  12S. 
"In    youth,   when    I   niu   love," 
etc.;   stanzas   from   a   song   at- 
tributed to  Lord  Vaux,  printed 
in    Tottel's   Miscellany    (1557) ; 
V.  i.  70. 
It,   its;    (Qq.   2,  3,   4,   Ff.    1,   2, 
"it";  Qq.  5,  6,  Ff.  3,  4,  "its"; 
Q.  1,  "his");  I.  ii.  216. 

Jealousy,  suspicion;  II.  i.  113. 
"Jephthah,    judge    of    Israel," 

etc.,  a   quotation   from   an   old 

ballad,  to  be  found  in  Percj^'s 

Rcliqiies;  II.  ii.  436. 
Jig,    a    ludicrous    ballad;    II.    ii. 

339. 


Jig,  walk  as  if  dancing  a  jig; 
III.  i.  152. 

J  O  H  N  -  a  -  D  R  E  A  M  S,       John       of 

Dreams,    John    the    Dreamer; 

II.  ii.  616. 
Jointress,  dowager;  I.  ii.  9. 
Jowls,  knocks;  V.  i.  85. 
Joys,  gladdens;  III.  ii.  214. 
Jump,     just;     (so     Q.     2;     Ff. 

"just")  ;  1.  i.  65. 

Keep,  dwell;  II.  i.  8. 

Kettle,  kettle-drum;   V.  ii.  297. 

Kibe,  chilblain  or  sore  on  the 
heel;  V.  i.  160. 

Kind;  "more  than  kin,  and  less 
than  k.";  used  equivocally  for 
(i.)  natural,  and  (ii.)  affec- 
tionate, with  a  play  upon 
"kin";  I.  ii.  65. 

KiNDLEss,  unnatural;   II.  ii.   630. 

Knotted,  interwoven;  (Ff. 
"knotty") ;  I.  v.  18. 

Know,  acknowledge;  V.  ii.  7. 

Laborsojie,  laborious,  assiduous; 
I.  ii.  59. 

Lack,  be  wanting;  I.  v.  187. 

Lamond,  possibly  a  name  sug- 
gested by  that  of  Pietro 
Monte,  a  famous  swordsman, 
instructor  to  Louis  the  Sev- 
enth's Master  of  the  Horse, 
called  "Peter  Mount"  in  Eng- 
lish (Ff.  "Lamound" ;  Qq. 
"Lamord")  ;  IV.  vii.  92, 

Lapsed;  "1.  in  time  and  passion"; 
having  let  time  slip  by  indulg- 
ing in  mere  passion;  III.  iv. 
107. 

Lapwing,  the  symbol  of  a  for- 
ward fellow;  V.  ii.  200. 

Larded,  garnished;  (Qq.  "Larded 
air);  IV.  V.  37. 

Lawless,  unruly;  (Ff.,  "Land- 
lesse");A.  i.  98. 


206 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK 


Glossary 


Lazak-like,  like  a  leper;  I.  v.  7;?. 
Leans   on,   depends   on;   IV.   iii. 

Learn,  teach;   (Ff.  "teach");  V. 

ii.  9. 
Leave,  permission;  L  ii.  o7. 
,   leave   off;    H.   i.    51;    give 

up;  in.  iv.  91. 
Lends,    gives;    (Ff.    "glues");    I. 

iii.  117   (v.  Note). 
Lenten,  meagre;  II.  ii.  338. 
Lethe,    the     river    of    oblivion; 

("Lethe      w  h  a  r  f"=  Lethe's 

bank;)  I.  v.  33. 
Lets,  hinders;  I.  iv.  85. 
Let  to  know,  informed;  IV.  vi. 

11. 
Liberal,     free-spoken;     IV.     vii. 

17i?. 
Liberty;  v.  "writ." 
Lief,  gladly,  willingly;  III.  ii.  4. 
Like;  "the  single  and  pec'uliar  I.", 

the  private  individual;  III.  iii. 

11. 
,  "in  my  1.",  i.  c.  in  my  con- 
tinuing to  live;  V.  ii.  J  J. 
Lightness,    lightheadedness;    II. 

ii.  151. 
Like,  likely;  I.  ii.  :^'37. 
Likes,  pleases;  II.  ii.  80. 
Limed,  caught  as  with  bird-lime; 

III.  iii.  68. 
List,  muster-roll,  (Q.  1,  "sight") ; 

I.  i.  98. 

,  boundary;  IV.  v.  101. 

,  listen  to;  I.  iii.  30. 

Living,    lasting     (used     perhaps 

equivocally) ;  V.  i.  3;^9. 
Loam,  clay;  V.  i.  24:2. 
Loggats,    u    game    somewhat    re- 
sembling   bowls;     the     loggats 

were  small  logs  about  two  feet 

and     a     quarter     long;     V.     i. 

103. 
Long  puri-les,  "the  early  purple 

orchis   {Orchis  mascula)   which 


blossoms  in   April   and  May"; 

IV.  vii.  171. 
Look  through,  show  itself;  IV. 

vii.  152. 
Lose,   waste,   throw   away;    I.   ii. 

45. 
LuxuRV,  lust;  I.  V.  83. 

Machine,  body;   II.  ii.   126. 

Maimed,  imperfect;  V.  i.  251. 

Main,  main  point,  main  cause; 
II.  ii.  36. 

,    the    country    as    a    whole; 

IV.  iv.  15. 

Majestical,  majestic;  I.  i.  143. 

Make,  brings;  II.  ii.  284. 

Manner,  fashion,  custom;  I.  iv. 
15. 

M argent,  margin;  it  was  a  com- 
mon pruclicc  to  write  conuuent 
or  gloss  in  the  margins  of  old 
books;  V.  ii.  166. 

Mark,  watch;  III.  ii.  103. 

^LvriKET  OF  ifis  tijie,  "that  for 
which  he  sells  his  time"  (John- 
son) ;   IV.  iv.  34. 

Mart,  marketing,  traflBc;  I.  i.  74. 

Marvellous,  marvellously;  II.  i. 
3. 

Massy,  massive;   III.  iii.  17. 

Matin,  morning;  I.  v.  89. 

Matter,  sense;  IV.  v.  176. 

Matter,  subject;  (misunderstood 
wilfully  by  Hamlet  to  mean 
"cause  of  dispute") ;  II.  ii.  19H. 

Mazzard,  skull;  used  contemptu- 
ously; (Qq.  2,  3,  "massene" ; 
Qq.  4,  5,  6,  "mazer") ;  V.  i. 
100. 

Means,  means  of  access;  IV.  vi. 
15. 

Meed,  merit;  V.  ii.  152. 

Meet,  proper;  I.  v.  107. 

Merely,  absolutely;   I.  ii.  137. 

Metal,  mettle;  I.  i.  96. 

MicHiNG     mallecho,     niouchiug 


207 


Glossary 


TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 


(i.      e.      skulking)       mischief; 

(Span,      malhecho,      ill-done) ; 

III.  ii.  152. 
Might,  could;  I.  i.  56. 
Mightiest,  very  mighty;  I.  i.  114, 
Milch,    milk-giving  =  moist  = 

tearful;   (Pope  "melt");  II.  ii. 

539. 
Milky,  white;  II.  ii.  517. 
Mincing,   cutting  in   pieces;   II. 

ii.  535. 
Mineral,  mine;  IV.  i.  26. 
Mining,  undermining;   (Ff.  3,  4, 

"running");  III.  iv.  148. 
Mistook,  mistaken;  V.  ii.  406. 
MOBLED,    muffled;    (cp.    Prov.    E. 

mop,     to     muffle;     "mob-cap," 

etc.);  [Qq.  mobled" ;  V.  1,  ino- 

bled;   Upton   conj.   "mob-led"; 

Capel,    ennobl'd,    etc.] ;    II.    ii. 

543. 
Model,  exact  copy,  counterpart; 

V.  ii.  50. 
Moietv,  portion;  I.  i.  90. 
Moist;  "the  moist  star,"  i.  e.  the 

moon;  I.  i.  118. 
Mole  of  nature,  natural  defect, 

blemish;  I.  iv.  24. 
Mope,  be  stupid;  III.  iv.  81. 
Mortal,  deadly;  IV.  vii.  143. 
Mortised,  joined  with  a  mortise; 

III.  iii.  20. 

Most,  greatest;  I.  v.  180. 

Mote,  atom;  (Qq.  2,  3,  4, 
"moth")  ;     I.  i.  lli^. 

Motion,  emotion,  impulse;  (War- 
burton,  "notio7i") ;   III.  iv.  72. 

— — ,  movement;  I.  ii.  217. 

Motion,  "attack  in  fencing,  op- 
posed  to  guard  or  parrying"; 

IV.  vii.  158. 

Mould  of  form,  the  model  on 
which  all  endeavored  to  form 
themselves;  III.  i.  163. 

Mouse,  a  term  of  endearment; 
III.  iv.  183. 


Mouth,  rant;  V.  i.  315. 

Mows,  grimaces;  II.  ii.  392. 

Muddy-mettled,  dull-spirited,  ir- 
resolute; II.  ii.  615. 

MuRDERiN  g-piece,  a  canuott 
loaded  with  case-shot,  so  as  to 
scatter  death  more  widely;  IV. 
V.  97. 

Mutes,  dumb  spectators;  V.  ii. 
357. 

MuTiNE,  mutiny,  rebel;  III.  iv. 
83. 

Mutines,  mutineers;  V.  ii.  6. 

Napkin,  handkerchief;  V.  ii.  310. 
Native,  kindred,  related;  I.  ii.  47. 
,    "n.    hue,"    natural    color; 

III.  i.  84. 
Nature,  natural  affection;   I.  v. 

81. 
Nature's  livery,  a  natural  blem- 
ish; I.  iv.  32. 
Naught,  naughty;  III.  ii.  162. 
Near,  is  near;  I.  iii.  44. 
Neighbor,   neighboring;    III.    iv. 

212. 
Neighbor'd  to,  intimate,  friendly 

with;  II.  ii.  12. 
Nemean   lion,   one  of  the   mon- 
sters slain  by  Hercules;   I.  iv. 

83. 
Nero,  tiie  Roman  Emperor,  who 

murdered    his    mother    Agrip- 

pina;  III.  ii.  426. 
Nerve,  sinew,  muscle;  I.  iv.  83. 
Neutral,  a  person  indifferent  to 

both;  II.  ii.  520. 
New-hatch'd,     newly     hatched; 

(Ff.  "unhatch't");  I.  iii.  65. 
New-lighted,      newly      alighted; 

III.  iv.  59. 
Nick-name,  misname;  III.  i.  153. 
Nighted,   dark,   black   as   night; 

(Ff.     "nighlhi";     Collier     MS. 

"nightlike");  I.  ii.  68. 
NiLL;    "will    he,    nill    he,"    i,    e. 


208 


PRINCE  OF  DEXMARK 


Glossary 


whether  he  will,  or  whether  he 
will  not;  V.  i.  19. 

N  I  o  B  E,  daughter  of  Tantalus, 
whose  children  were  slain  by 
Apollo  and  Artemis,  while  she 
herself  was  turned  into  stone 
upon  Mount  Sipylus  in  Lydia, 
where  she  weeps  throughout 
the  summer  months;  I.  ii.  149. 

Nomination,  naming;  V.  ii.  136. 

No  MORE,  nothing  more;  III.  i. 
61. 

Nonce,  "for  the  n.",  for  that 
once,  for  the  occasion;  (Qq.  4, 
5,  "once");   IV.  vii.  161. 

NonwAY,  King  of  Norway;  I.  i, 
61. 

Nose,  smell;  IV.  iii.  41. 

Note,  notice,  attention;  III.  ii. 
93. 

Noted,  known;  II.  i.  23. 

Nothing,  not  at  all;  I.  ii.  41. 

NoYANCE,  injury,  harm;  III.  iii. 
13. 

Obsequious,  dutiful,  with  perhaps 
a  reference  to  the  other  sense 
of  the  word  ="f unereal" ;  I.  ii. 
93. 

Occulted,  concealed,  hidden;  III. 
ii.  89. 

OccuRRENTS,  occurrcnccs;  V.  ii. 
379. 

Odds;  "at  the  o.",  with  the  ad- 
vantage allowed;  V.  ii.  230. 

O'er-crows,  triumphs  over;  V.  ii. 
375. 

O'er-raught,  over-reached,  over- 
took; (Qq.  "ore-raught";  Ff.  1, 
2,  "ore-wrought" ;  Ff.  3,  4, 
" o' re-took" ;  Warburton  "o'er- 
rode");  III.  i.  17. 

O'er-reaches,  outwits;  (F.  1, 
"o're  Offices";  F.  2,  "ore-Of- 
fices") ;  V.  i.  88. 


O'eh-sized,  covered  with  <?ize,  a 
sort  of  glue;  II.  ii.  502. 

O'er-teemed,  worn  out  with  child- 
bearing;  II.  ii.  529. 

O'ertook,  overcome  by  drink,  in- 
toxicated; II.  i.  58. 

O'erweigh,  outweigh;   III.  ii.  34. 

Of,  resulting  from;  IV.  iv.  41; 
by;  I.  i.  25;  IV.  iii.  4;  in;  I.  v. 
60;  on;  IV.  v.  203;  about,  con- 
cerning; IV.  v.  46;  upon,  ("/ 
have  an  eye  of  you");  II.  ii. 
307;  over;  II.  ii.  27. 

Offence,  advantages  gained  by 
offence;  III.  iii.  56. 

Omen,  fatal  event  portended  by 
the  omen;  (Theobald 
"omen'd");  I.  i.  123. 

Ominous,  fatal;  II.  ii.  494. 

On,  in;  V.  i.  218;  in  consequence 
of,  following  on;  V.  ii.  417. 

Once,  ever;  I.  v.  121. 

On't,  of  it;  III.  i.  185. 

Oped,  opened;  I.  iv.  50. 

Open'd,  discovered,  disclosed;  II. 
ii.  18. 

Operant,  active;  III.  ii.  189. 

Opposed,  opponent;  I.  iii.  67. 

Opposites,  opponents;  V.  ii.  62. 

Or,  before,  ere;  V.  ii.  30. 

Ohb,  earth;  II.  ii.  524. 

Orchard,  garden;  (Q.  1676,  "gar- 
den") ;  I.  V.  35. 

Order,  prescribed  rule;  V,  i.  260. 

Ordinant,  ordaining;  (Ff.  "ordi- 
nate") ;  V.  ii.  48. 

Ordnance,  cannon;  (F.  1,  "Or- 
dinance"); V.  ii.  292. 

Ore,  gold;  IV.  i.  25. 

Or  ere,  before;  I.  ii.  147. 

Organ,  instrument;  IV.  vii.  71. 

Orisons,  prayers;  III.  i.  89. 

Ossa;  a  reference  to  the  story  of 
the  giants,  who  piled  Olympus, 
Pelion,  and  Ossa,  three  moun- 


XX— 14 


209 


Glossary 


TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 


tains  in  Tht-ssaly,  upon  each 
other,  in  their  attempt  to  scale 
heaven;  V.  i.  31o. 

Ostentation',  funeral  pomp;  I\'. 
V.  218. 

Outstretched,  puffed  up;  II.  ii. 
276. 

Overlooked,  perused;  IV.  vi.  14. 

OvERPEERiNc,  Overflowing,  rising 
above;  I\'.  v.  101, 

Owl  was  a  baker's  daughter; 
alhuling  to  a  story  current 
among  the  folk  telling  how 
Christ  went  into  a  baker's 
shop,  and  asked  for  bread,  but 
was  refused  by  the  baker's 
daughter,  in  return  for  wliich 
He  transformed  her  into  an 
owl;  IV.  V.  -tl. 

Packing,     plotting,     contriving; 

(?)  going  off  in  a  hurry;  used 

probably   in   the   former   sense, 

with  play  upon  the  latter;  III. 

iv.  211. 
Paddock,  toad;  III.  iv.  190. 
Painted;  "p.  tyrant,"  t.  e.  tyrant 

in  a  picture;  II.  ii.  519;  unreal, 

fictitious;  III.  i.  53. 
Pajock,=;  pea-jock    (*'.   e.  jack), 

peacock,    {cp.   Scotch   "bubbly- 

jock"=a  turkey);  III.  ii.  ;>0'4. 
Pall,  become  useless;    (Qq.  3,  4, 

(j,  '•fall";  Pope,  ••fail");  V.  ii. 

9. 
Pansies,     "love-in-idleness,"     the 

symbol     of     thought;     (F.     1, 

'•  Paconcies")  ;  IV.  v.  179. 
Pardon,  permission  to  take  leave; 

I.  ii,  56. 
Parle,  parley;  I.  i.  Q2. 
Part,  quality,  gift;  IV,  vii,  7T, 
Partisan,  a   kind   of  halberd;   I, 

i.  140, 
Parts,    gifts,    endowments;     IV. 

vii,  74, 


Party,  person,  companion;  II,  i. 
i2. 

Pass,  i)a.ssage;  II,  ii,  77. 

,  "p.  of  practice,"  treacher- 
ous thrust;  IV.  vii.  139. 

Passage  ;  "for  his  p.",  to  accom- 
pany his  departure,  in  place  of 
the  passing  bell;  V.  ii.  \20. 

P  a  s  s  e  T  i£,  surpasseth ;  (Qq. 
" pauses") ;   I.  ii.  85, 

Passion,  violent  sorrow;  II,  ii, 
560. 

Passionate,  full  of  passion,  feel- 
ing; II.  ii.  469. 

Pate,  a  contemptuous  word  for 
head;  V,  i.  IJl. 

Patience,  permission;  III,  ii, 
118. 

Patrick,  invoked  as  being  the 
patron  saint  of  all  blunders 
and  confusion;  (or  perhaps  as 
the  Keeper  of  Purgatory) ;  I, 
V,  136. 

Pause,  time  for  reflection;  III.  i. 
68. 

,    "deliberate    j).",    a    matter 

for  deliberate  arrangement ; 
IV.  ill.  9. 

,  "in  p.",  in  deliberation,  in 

doubt;  III.  iii.  42. 

Peace-parted,  having  departed  in 
peace;  V.  i.  270. 

Peak,  sneak,  play  a  contempti- 
ble part;  II.  ii.  615. 

Pelican,  a  bird  which  is  sup- 
posed to  feed  its  young  with 
its  own  blood;  (F.  1,  'politi- 
cian') ;  IV.  V.   148. 

Perdy,  a  corruption  of  par  Dieu; 
III.  ii.  315. 

Periwig-fated,  wearing  a  wig; 
(at  this  time  wigs  were  worn 
only  by  actors);  III.  ii.  11. 

Perpend,  consider;    II.   ii.   105, 

Perusal,  study,  examination;  II. 
i.  90. 

10 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK 


Glossary 


Peruse,  exaioine  closely;  IV.  vii. 
137. 

Petak,  petard,  "an  Engine  (niatle 
like  a  Bell  or  Mortar)  where- 
with strong  gates  are  burst 
open"  (Cotgrave);  III.  iv.  207. 

Picked,  refined,  fastidious;  V.  i. 
158. 

Pickers  and  Stealers,  i.  e. 
hands;  (alluding  to  the  cate- 
chism "Keep  my  hands  from 
picking  and  stealing");  III.  ii. 
361. 

Picture  ik  i.itti.e,  miniature;  II. 
ii.  394. 

Pigeon-j.ivek'u,  too  mild  tem- 
pered ;  1 1,  ii.  (j2(i. 

Pioxer,  pioneer;  I.  v.  1(J3. 

Pitch,  heiglit,  importance;  (orig- 
inally, height  to  which  a  fal- 
con soars);  (Ff.  "pith");  III. 
i.  86. 

Piteous,  pitiful,  exciting  compas- 
sion; II.  i.  9-1. 

Pith  and  marrow,  the  most  val- 
uable part;  I.  iv.  22. 

Plausive,  plausible,  pleasing;  I. 
iv.  30. 

Plautus;  "P.  too  light,"  alluding 
to  the  fact  that  Plautus  was 
taken  as  the  word  for  comedy 
by  the  Academic  play-wrights; 
II.  ii.  433. 

Played  i'  the  university;  al- 
luding to  the  old  academic 
practice  of  acting  Latin  or 
English  plays  at  Christmas- 
tide,  or  in  honor  of  distin- 
guished visitors;  (a  play  on 
Caesar's  death  was  perfoi-med 
at  Oxford  in  1582);  III.  ii. 
108. 

Played;  "p.  the  desk  or  tale- 
book",  I.  e.  been  the  agent  of 
their  correspondence;  II.  ii. 
138. 


Plot,   piece    of   ground;    IV.    iv. 

62. 
Pluuisv,    plethora,    a    fulness    of 

blood,   (as  if  Latin  piux,  more, 

but   really   an   affection  of  the 

lungs,    Gk.    irXfvpa)  i    IV.    vii. 

118. 
Point;    'at    p.'    completely;     (so 

Qq.;  Ff.  'at  all  points');   I.  ii. 

200. 
Polack,  Pole;  II.  ii.  75. 

,  Polish;  V.  ii.  398. 

PoLACKS,  Poles;    (Qq.   F.   1,  'pol- 

la.f' ;  r.  note)  ;  I.  i.  63. 
Pole,  j)olc-star;  I.  i.  36. 
Politician,  i)lotter,  schemer;   V. 

i.  88. 
PoHPENTiN'K,  porcupine;  I.  v.  20. 
Posset,  curdle;  (Qq.  "possesse") ; 

I.  v.  68. 

Posy,  motto,  verse  on  a  ring;  III. 

ii.  167. 
Powers,  armed  force,  troops;  I\', 

iv.  9, 
Practice,  artifice,  plot;   IV.   vii. 

68. 
Precedent,  former;  III.  iv.  98. 
Precurse,  forerunning;  I.  i.  121. 
Pregnant,   yielding,   ready;    III. 

ii.  70. 
Prenominate,    aforesaid;     II.    i. 

43. 
Prescripts,    orders;     (Ff.,    "p/v- 

cepts")  ;  II.  ii.  144. 
Presently,  at  once,  immediately; 

II.  ii.  172. 

Present  push,  immediate  proof; 

V.  i.  327. 
Pressure,  impress,   imprint;    III. 

ii.  30. 
Pressures,  impressions;  I.  v.  100. 
Prevent,   anticipate;    II.   ii.   312. 
Phick'd  on,  incited,  spurred  on; 

I.  i.  83. 
Primal,  first;  III.  iii.  37. 
PuniY,  sjjring-like;  I.  iii.  7. 


211 


Glossary 


TRAGEDY  OF  TIAjVILET 


Privates,  romraon  snldifra;  IT.  ii. 
242. 

Probation,  proof;  (quadrisylla- 
ble) ;  I,  i.  156. 

Process,  decree;  IV.  iii.  68. 

Prodigal,  prodigally;   I.  iii.   116. 

Profit,  advantage;  II.  ii.  24. 

Progress,  journey  made  by  a  sov- 
ereign through  his  own  coun- 
try; IV'.  iii.  34. 

Pronounce,  speak  on;  III.  ii. 
333. 

Proof,  trial  of  strength;  II.  ii. 
529. 

l*ROPEH,  appropriate;  II.  1.  114. 

,  own,  very;  V.  ii.  66. 

PaoPERTY,  kingly  right,  (?  "own 
person") ;  II.  ii.  618. 

Proposer,  orator;  II.  ii.  303. 

Provincial  roses,  properly,  dou- 
ble-damask roses;  here,  rosettes 
of  ribbon  worn  on  shoes;  the 
name  was  derived  either  from 
Provence  or  Provins  near  Paris, 
both  places  being  famous  for 
their  roses;  III.  ii.  296. 

Puff'd,  bloated;  I.  iii.  49. 

Puppets;  "p.  dallying";  (?)  the 
figures  in  the  puppet-show  (in 
which  Ophelia  and  her  lover 
were  to  play  a  part);  more 
probably  used  in  some  wanton 
sense;  III.  ii.  264. 
Purgation;  "put  him  to  his  p.", 
"a  play  upon  the  legal  and 
medical  senses  of  the  word"; 
III.  ii.  328. 
Pursy,  fat  with  pampering;  III. 
iv.  153. 

Put  on,  incite,  instigate;  IV.  vii. 

132;  put  to  the  test,  tried;  V. 

ii.  419;  assume;  I.  v.  172. 
Put  on  me,  impressed  upon  me; 

I.  iii.  94. 

212 


Quaintly,  artfully,  skilfully;  II. 

i.  31, 
Quality,  profession,  calling  (es- 
pecially the  actor's  profession) ; 
II.  ii.  373. 
Quantity,  measure,  portion;  III. 

iv.  75. 
Quarry,  heap  of  dead;  V.  ii.  38G. 
Question,  talk;  III.  i.  13. 

;  "cry  out  on  the  top  of  q.", 

i.  e.  speak  in  a  high  key,  or  in 
a   high    childish   treble;    II.   ii. 
365. 
Questionable,  inviting  question; 

I.  iv.  43. 
Quest  law,  inquest  law;  V.  i.  25. 
Quick,  alive;  V.  i.  143. 
Quiddities,  subtleties;    (Ff,, 

"quiddits");  V.  i.  111. 
Quietus,  a  law  term  for  the  offi- 
cial settlement  of  an  account; 
III.  i.  75. 
Quillets,  subtle  arguments;  V.  i. 

112. 
Quintessence,     the     highest     or 
fifth    essence;    (a   term   in   al- 
chemy) ;  II.  ii.  330. 
Quit,  requite;  V.  ii.  68. 
Quoted,    observed,   noted;    II.    i. 
112. 

Rack,  mass  of  clouds  in  motion; 

II.  ii.  523. 
Range,  roam  at  large;  III.  iii.  2. 
Ranker,  richer,  greater;  IV.  iv. 

22. 

Rankly,  grossly;  I.  v.  38. 
Rapier,   a   small   sword   used   in 
thrusting;   V.  ii.  155. 
Rashly,  hastily;  V.  ii.  6. 
Ravel   out,    unravel;    (Qq.    3-5, 

"roueU")  ;  III.  iv.  186. 
Razed,  slashed;  III.  ii.  296, 
Reach,  capacity;  II.  i.  64. 
Recks,     cares,     minds;      (Qq. 

"reck'st")  ;  I.  iii.  51. 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK 


Glossary 


Recognizances;  "a  recognizance 
is  a  bond  or  obligation  of 
record  testifying  the  recog- 
nizer to  owe  to  tiic  recognizee 
a  certain-  sum  of  money" 
(Cowei);  V.  i.  118. 

Recorders,  a  kind  of  liule  or 
flageolet;  III.  ii.  313. 

Recoveries,  a  law  term ;  {v. 
"Vouchers");  V.  i.  119. 

Rede,  counsel,  advice;  I.  iii.  51. 

Hedemveb,  report;  V.  ii.  193. 

Reels,  dances  wildly;  I.  iv.  9. 

Regards,  conditions;   II.  ii.  79. 

Region,  uir;  ("originally  a  di- 
vision of  tlic  sky  marked  out 
by  the  Roman  augurs");  II. 
ii.  526. 

Relative,  conclusive,  to  the  pur- 
pose; II.  ii.  654. 

Relish  of,  have  a  taste,  flavor; 
III.  i.  121. 

Remember;  "I  beseech  you,  r.", 
the  full  saying  is  found  in 
Love's  Labor's  Lost;  V.  i.  103; 
"/  do  beseech  thee  remember 
thy  courtesy;  I  beseech  thee 
apparel  thy  head";  V.  ii.   109. 

Remembrances,  mementos;  III. 
i.  93. 

Remiss,  careless;  IV.  vii.  135. 

Remorse,  pity;  II.  ii.  530. 

Remove,  removal;  IV.  v.  83. 

Removed,  retired,  secluded;  I.  iv. 
61. 

Repast,  feed;  IV.  v.  14'9. 

Replication,  reply,  answer;  IV. 
ii.  13. 

Requite,  repay;  I.  ii.  251. 

Residence,  a  fixed  abode  as  op- 
posed to  strolling;  used  tech- 
nically" of  theatrical  compa- 
nies; II.  ii.  353. 

Resolutes,  desperadoes;  I.  i.  98. 

Resolve,  dissolve,  melt;  I.  Li. 
130. 


Re-speaking,  re-echoing;  I.  ii. 
128. 

Respect,  consideration,  motive; 
III.  i.  68. 

Rest,  stay,  abode;   II.  ii.  1.3. 

Rests,  remains;  III.  iii.  6i. 

Retrooraue,  contrary;   i.  ii.   114. 

Retuhn'd;  "had  r.",  would  have 
returned;  (Qq.  "returne");  I. 
i.  91. 

Reverend,  venerable;   II.  ii.  518. 

Revolution,  change;  V.  i.  101. 

Re-word,  repeat  in  llic  very 
words;  III.  iv.  1*3. 

Rhapsody,  a  collection  of  mean- 
ingless words;  111.  iv.  48. 

Rhenish,  Rhenish  wine;  I.  iv.  10. 

Riband,  ribbon,  ornament;  IV. 
vii.  78. 

Rights  of  siemohy,  rights  re- 
membered; (Ff.  "Riles")',  V. 
ii.  411. 

Rites,  funeral  service;  V.  i.  251. 

Rivals,  partners,  sharers;  I.  i.  13. 

Robustious,  sturdy;  III.  ii.  11. 

RoMAGE,  bustle,  turmoil;  I.  i.  107. 

Rood,  cross;  "bj'  the  rood,"  an 
oath;  III.  iv.  14. 

Roots  itself,  takes  root,  grows; 

I.  v.  33. 

Roscius,  the  most  celebrated  actor 
of  ancient  Rome;  II.  ii.  423. 

Rose,  charm,  grace;  III.  iv.  42. 

Rosemary,  a  herb;  the  symbol  o^ 
remembrance,  particularly  used 
at  weddings  and  funerals;  IV. 
v.  177. 

Rough-hew,  make  the  rough,  or 
first  form;  a  technical  term  in 
carpentering;  V.  ii.  11. 

Round,  in  a  straightforward 
manner;  II.  ii.  141. 

Rouse,  bumper,  revel;  ("the 
Danish  rousa");  I.  ii.  127. 

Row,    stanza    (properly ,=7line) ; 

II.  ii.  452. 
!13 


Glossary 


TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 


lluii,  impediment;  a  lenn  in  the 
game  oi"  bowls;  III.  i.  (ia. 

1»LE,  called  also  "herb  of  grace"; 
emblematic  of  repentance; 
(Ophelia  is  probably  playing 
on  j-Me  =  repentance,  and  "rue, 
even  for  rti/h"=:\niy;  the  for- 
mer signification  for  the  queen, 
the  latter  for  herself)  {cp. 
Richard  II.;  III.  iv.  104);  IV. 
V.  183. 

Sablls,  fur  used  for  the  trim- 
ming of  rich  robes;  perhaps 
with  a  play  on  ''sable"^  black ; 
III.  ii.  143. 

Safety;  trisyllabic;  (so  Qq.;  Ff., 
"sanctity"',  Theobald,  "san- 
ity") ;  I.  ill.  21. 

Sallets,  salads;  used  metaphori- 
cally for  "relish";  (Pope 
"salts",  later  "salt") ;  II.  ii. 
480. 

Sandal  shoox,  shoes  consisting 
of  soles  tied  to  the  feet; 
{shoon,  archaic  plural) ;  (Qq., 
"Sendall");  IV.  v.  26. 

Sans,  without;  III.  iv.  79. 

Sate,  satiate;  I.  v.  56. 

Satyh,  taken  as  a  type  of  de- 
formity; I.  ii.  140. 

Saws,  maxims;   I.  v.   100. 

Say'st,  say'st  well;  V.  i.  30. 

'Sblood,  a  corruption  of  "God's 
blood";  an  oath;  II.  ii.  394. 

Scann'd,  carefully  considered; 
III.  iii.  75. 

'Scapes,  escajjes;  I.  iii.  38. 

wScaiu'd,  put  on  loosely  like  a 
scarf;  V.  ii.  13. 

Scholar,  a  man  of  learning,  and 
hence  versed  in  Latin,  the  lan- 
guage of  exorcists;  I.  i.  42. 

School,  uni varsity;  I.  ii.   113. 

Sconce,  colloquial  term  for  head; 
V.  i.  114. 


21 


Sconce,  ensconce;  (Qq.,  Ff.,  "si- 
lence") ;  III.  iv.  4. 

Scope,  utmost  aim;  III.  ii.  234. 

Scourge,  punishment;   IV.  iii.  6. 

ScRiMERS,  fencers;  I\'.  vii.  101. 

Scullion,  the  lowest  servant; 
used  as  a  term  of  contempt; 
II.  ii.  637. 

Sea-gown;  "esclavinc;  a  sea- 
gowne;  or  a  coarse,  high-col- 
lared, and  short-sleeved  gowne, 
reaching  downe  to  the  mid-leg, 
and  used  most  by  seamen,  and 
Saylors"  (Cotgrave)  ;  V.  ii.  13. 

Seals;  "to  give  them  s.",  to  ratify 
by  action;  III.  ii.  431. 

Sea  of  troubles,  (r.  "take 
arms,")  etc. 

Season,  temper,  restrain;  I.  ii. 
192. 

,  ripen;  I.  iii.  81. 

,  qualify;  II.  i.  28. 

Seasons,  matures,  seasons;  III. 
ii.  224. 

Secure,  careless,  unsuspicious; 
(Johnson,  "secret")  ;  I.  v.  61. 

Seeming,  appearance;  III.  ii.  96. 

Seized  of,  possessed  of;  I.  i.  89. 

Semblable,  equal,  like;  V.  ii.  126. 

Seneca;  "S.  cannot  be  too 
heavy,"  alluding  to  the  rhetori- 
cal Senecan  plays  taken  as 
models  for  tragedy  by  the 
Academic  play-wrights ;  II.  ii. 
432. 

Sense,  feeling;  sensibility;  III. 
iv.  71. 

Sensibly,  feelingly;  (F.  1,  "sen- 
sible"); IV.  v.  152. 

Se  offendendo.  Clown's  blunder 
for  se  defendendo;  V.  i.  9. 

Sequent,  consequent,  following; 
V.  ii.  54. 

Sergeant,  sheriff's  officer;  V.  ii, 
358. 

Set,  regard,  esteem;  IV.  iii.  67. 

4 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK 


Glossary 


Seveiiai,,  different;  V.  ii.  20. 

Shall,  will;  III.  i.  186. 

Shall  along,  shall  go  along;  III. 

iii.  4. 
Shape;    "to   our   s.",   to   act   our 

part;  IV,  vii.  151. 
Shahds,  fragments  of  pottery;  V. 

i.  ^63. 
Shark'd   up,   picked    up   without 

selection;  I.  i.  98. 
Sheen,  brightness,  lustre;  III.  ii. 

172. 
Sheeted,   enveloped    in    shrouds; 

I.  i.  115. 
S  H  E  N  T,   put   to   the   blush,   re- 
proached; III.  ii.  430. 
Short;    "kept    s.",    kept,    as    it 

were,   tethered,   under   control; 

IV.  i.  18. 
Should,  would;  III.  ii.  326. 
Shreds  and  patches,  alluding  to 

the  motely   dress  worn   by  the 

clown,    and    generally    by    the 

Vice;  III.  iv.  102. 
Shrewdly,  keenly,  piercingly;  I. 

iv.  1. 
Shriving-time,   time   for  confes- 
sion and  absolution;   V.  ii.  47. 
Siege,  rank;  IV.  vii.  77. 
Simple,  silly,  weak;  I.  ii.  97. 
Simples,  herbs;  IV.  vii.  145. 
SiTH,  since;  IV.  iv.  12. 
Skirts,   outskirts,    borders;    I.    i. 

97. 
Slander,  abuse;  I.  iii.  133. 
Sledded,  travelling  in  sledges;  I. 

i.  63. 
Slips,  faults,  offences;  II.  i.  22. 
Sliver,  a  small  branch  of  a  tree; 

IV.  vii.  175. 
So,    such;    III.    i.    69;    j)rovided 

that;  IV.  vii.  61. 
Softly,   slowly;    (Ff.    "safely"); 

IV.  iv.  8. 
Soft   you   now,   hush,   be   quiet; 

III.  i.  88. 

2 


Soil,  stain;   I.  iv.  20. 
Sole,  only;  III.  iii.  77. 
Solicited,    urged,   moved;    V.    ii. 
380. 

Something,  somewhat ;  ( Ff. 
"somewhat") ;  I.  iii.  121. 

Sometimes,  formerly;  I.  i.  49. 

Sort,  associate;  II.  ii.  280. 

,  turn  out;  I.  i.  109. 

Sovereignty;  "your  s.  of  reason," 
the  command  of  your  reason; 
I.  iv.  73. 

Splenitive,  passionate,  impetu- 
ous; V.  i.  293. 

Springes,  snares;  I.  iii.  115. 

Spurns,  kicks;   IV.  v.  6. 

Stand  me  upon,  be  incumbent  on 
me;  V.  ii.  63. 

Star,  sphere;  II.  ii.  143. 

Station,  attitude  in  standing; 
III.  iv.  58. 

Statists,  statesman;  V.  ii.  33. 

Statutes,  "particular  modes  of 
recognizance  or  acknowledg- 
ment for  securing  debts,  wiiich 
thereby  become  a  charge  upon 
the  party's  land"  (Ritson);  V. 
i.   118. 

Stay,  wait  for;  V.  ii.  24. 

Stay'd,  waited;  I.  iii.  57. 

Stays,  waits  for  me;  III.  iii. 
95. 

Stay  upon,  await;  III.  ii.  117. 

Stick  fiery  off,  "stand  in  bril- 
liant relief";  V.  ii.  279. 

Stiffly,  strongly;  I.  v.  95. 

Still,  always;  I.  i.  122. 

Stithy,  smithy;  (F.  1,  "Slylhe"; 
(Ff.  2,  3,  h"Sf!/lh"i  Theobald, 
'•Smith;/");  III.  ii.  93. 

Stomach,  courage;  I.  i.  100. 

Stoi'p,  drinking  cup;  V.  i.  69. 

Straight,  straightway;  II.  ii.  467. 

Stranger;  "as  a  s.",  ?.  e.  wthout 
doubt  or  question;  I.  v.  165. 

Strewment8,  strewing  of  flowers 


15 


Glossary 


TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 


over  the  coriJbc  and  grave;   ^'. 
i.  265. 

Strike,  blast,  destroy  by  their 
influence;  I.  i.  162. 

Stuck,  thrust ;  an  abbreviation  of 
staccato;  IV.  vii.  162. 

Subject,  subjects,  people;  I.  i. 
72. 

Succession,  future;  II.  it.  3T8. 

Suddenly,  immediately;  II.  ii. 
219. 

Sullies,  stains,  blemishes;  II.  i. 
39. 

Sun  ;  "too  much  i'  the  s.",  prob- 
ably a  quibbling  allusion  to  the 
old  proverb  "Out  of  heaven's 
blessing  into  tlie  warm  smi," 
=:out  of  comfort,  miserable; 
I.  ii.  67. 

Supervise,  supervision,  perusal; 
V.  ii.  ^3. 

SuppLiANCE,  dalliance,  amuse- 
ment; I.  iii.  9. 

Supply,  aiding;  II.  ii.  24. 

SupposAL,  opinion;  I.  ii.  18. 

Swaddling  clouts,  swaddling 
clothes;  (Ff.  "swathing");  II. 
ii.  414. 

Sweet,  sweetheart;  III.  ii.  240. 

Swinish;  "with  s.  phrase,"  by 
calling  us  swine;  (a  pun  on 
"Sweyn"  has  been  found  in  the 
phrase)  ;  I.  iv.  19. 

SwiTZERS,  Swiss  guards;  (Qq. 
"Swissers")\  IV.  v.  97. 

SwoopsTAKE,  sweepstake;  (the 
term  is  taken  from  a  game  of 
cards,  the  winner  sweeping  or 
drawing  the  whole  stake)  ;  IV. 
V.  144. 

'SwouNDs,  a  corruption  of  God's 
icounds;  an  oath;  II.  ii.  625. 

SwouNDs,  swoons,  faints;  (Qq.  2- 
5,  Ff.  1,  2,  "sounds") ;  V.  ii. 
330. 

2 


Table,  tablet;  I.  v.  98. 

Tables,  tablets,  memorandum- 
book;  I.  V.  107. 

Taints,  stains,  blemishes;  II.  i. 
32. 

Take  arms  against  a  sea;  an 
allusion  to  a  custom  attributed 
to  the  Kelts  l)y  Aristotle,  Stra- 
bo,  and  other  writers;  "they 
throw  themselves  into  the 
foaming  floods  with  their 
swords  drawn  in  their  hands," 
etc.  (Fleming's  trans.  of 
Aelian's  Histories,  1576);  III. 
i.  59. 

Takes,  affects,  enchants;  (Ff.  1, 
2,  "talkes";  Ff.  3,  4,  "talks"); 
I.  i.  163. 

Take  yoi-,  pretend;  II.  i.  13. 

Tardy;  "come  t.  off,"  being  too 
feebly  shown;  III.  ii.  31. 

Tarre,  incite;  II.  ii.  380. 

Tax'd,  censured;  I.  iv.  18. 

Tell,  count;  I.  ii.  238. 

Temper'd,  compounded;  (Ff. 
"temp'red") ;  V.  ii.  350. 

Temple,  (applied  to  the  body); 
I.  iii.  12. 

Tend,  wait;  IV.  iii.  50. 

Tender,  regard,  have  a  care  for; 
I.  iii.  107. 

Tenders,  promises;  I.  iii.  106. 

Tent,  probe;  II.  ii.  647. 

Termagant,  a  common  character 
in  the  mystery-plays,  repre- 
sented as  a  most  violent  ty- 
rant; often  referred  to  in  as- 
sociation with  Mahoun,  and 
seemingly  as  a  Saracen  god; 
III.  u.  17. 

Tetter,  a  diseased  thickening  of 
the  skin;  I.  v.  71. 

That,  that  which;  II.  ii.  7. 

,  so  that ;  IV.  v.  220. 

Theft,  the  thing  stolen;  III.  ii. 
98. 


16 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK 


Glossary 


Thereabout  of  it,  that  part  of 
it;  II.  ii.  486. 

Thews,  sinews,  bodily  strength; 
I.  iii.  12. 

Thieves  of  biercy,  merciful 
thieves;  IV.  vi.  22. 

Thinking;  "not  th.  on,"  not  be- 
ing thought  of,  being  forgot- 
ten; III.  ii.  148. 

Think'st  thee,  seems  it  to  thee; 
(Qq.  "think  thee") ;  V.  ii.  63. 

Thought,  care,  anxiety;  IV.  v. 
191. 

Thought-sick,  sick  with  anxiety; 
III.  iv.  51. 

Thrift,  profit;  III.  ii.  71. 

Thoroughly,  thoroughly;  IV.  v. 
138. 

Tickle  o'  the  sere,  easily  moved 
to  laughter;  used  originally  of 
a  musket  in  which  the  "sere" 
or  trigger  is  "tickle,"  i.  e.  "eas- 
ily moved  by  a  touch";  II.  ii. 
348. 

Timber'd;  "too  slightly  t.,"  made 
of  too  light  wood;  IV.  vii.  22. 

Time,  the  temporal  world;  III.  i. 
70. 

TiNCT,  dye,  color;  III.  iv.  91. 

To,  compared  to;  I.  ii.  140. 

To-Do,  ado;  II.  ii.  379. 

Toils,  makes  to  toil;  I.  i.  72. 

Too  TOO,  (used  with  intensive 
force) ;  I.  ii.  129. 

Topp'd,  overtopped,  surpassed. 
(Ff.  "past");  IV.  vii.  89. 

Touch'd,  implicated;  IV.  v.  210. 

Toward,  forthcoming,  at  hand; 
-I.  i.  77. 

Toy  in  blood,  a  passing  fancy;  I. 
iii.  6. 

Toys,  fancies;  I.  iv.  75. 

Trace,  follow;  V.  ii.  127. 

I'iiADE,  business;  III.  ii.  358 

Translate,  transform,  change; 
III.  i.  114. 


Travel,  stroll,  go  on  tour  in  the 

provinces    (used    technically) ; 

II.  ii.  353. 
Thick,    toy,    trifle;    IV.    iv.    61; 

faculty,  skill;  V.  i.  101;  habit; 

IV.  vii.  189. 
Trick'd,  adorned;  a  term  of  her- 
aldry; II.  ii.  497. 
Tristful,  sorrowful;  III.  iv.  50. 
Tropically,  figuratively;  III.  ii. 

253. 
Truant,  idler;  I.  ii.  173. 
Truant,  roving;  I.  ii.  169. 
True-penny,  honest  fellow;  I.  v. 

150. 
Trumpet,  trumpeter;  I.  i.  ISO. 
Truster,  believer;  I.  ii.  172. 
Turn   Turk,  change  utterly   for 

the      worse;       (a      proverbial 

phrase)  ;  III.  ii.  295. 
Twelve    for    nine;    this    phrase, 

according  to  the  context,  must 

mean    "twelve    to    nine,"    i.    e. 

twelve  on  one  side,  to  nine  on 

the  other;  V.  ii.  179. 
Tyrannically,     enthusiasticallyf 

vehemently;  II.  ii.  366. 

Umbrage,  shadow;  V.  ii.  128. 

Unaneled,  not  having  received 
extreme  unction;  I.  v.  77. 

Unbated,  not  blunted,  without  a 
button  fixed  to  the  end;  IV. 
vii.  139. 

Unbraced,  unfastened;  II.  i.  78. 

Uncharge,  not  charge,  not  ac- 
cuse; IV.  vii.  68. 

Undergo,  bear,  endure;  I.  iv.  34. 

Uneffectual;  "u.  fire;"  i.  e.  in- 
effectual, being  "lost  in  the 
light  of  the  morning";  I.  v.  90. 

Unequal,  unequally;  II.  ii.  510. 

Ungalled,  unhurt;  III.  ii.  291. 

Unoohed,  unwounded;  V.  ii.  272. 

Ungracious,  graceless;  I.  iii.  47. 


217 


Glossary 


TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 


Unhousel'd,  without  having  re- 
ceived the  Sacrament;  I.  v.  77. 

Unimproved,  unemployed,  not 
turned  to  account;  (?  "una'p- 
proved,"  i.  e.  "untried";  Q.  1, 
" ilia p proved")  ;  I.  i.  96. 

Uniox,  fine  orient  pearl;  (Q.  2, 
"Vnice";  Qq.  3-6,  "Onyx"  or 
"Onixe");  V.  ii.  294. 

Unkennel,  discover,  disclose; 
III.  ii.  90. 

Unlimited;  "poem  u.",  i.  e. 
(probably  regardless  of  the 
Unities  of  Time  and  Place;  II. 
ii.  432. 

Unmaster'd,  unbridled;  I.  iii.  32. 

Unpbegnant,  unapt,  indifferent 
to;  II.  ii.  616. 

Unprevailing,  unavailing,  use- 
less; I.  ii.  107. 

Un  PROPORTION 'd,  unsuitable;  I. 
iii.  60. 

Unreclaimed,  untamed,  wild;  II. 
i.  34. 

Unshaped,  confused;  IV.  v.  8. 

Unsifted,  untried;  I.  iii.  102. 

Unsinew'd,  weak;   IV.  vii.   10. 

Unsure,  insecure;  IV.  iv.  51. 

Unvalued,  low  born,  mean;  I. 
iii.  19. 

Unwrung,  not  wrenched,  un- 
galled;  III.  ii.  260. 

Unyoke,  your  day's  work  is 
done;  V.  i.  60. 

Up,  "drink  u."  (used  with  inten- 
sive force)  ;  V.  i.  308. 

Upon;  'u.  your  hour,'  i.  e.  on  the 
stroke  of,  just  at  your  hour; 
I.  i.  6. 

Upon  my  sword,  i.  e.  Swear  upon 
my  sword,  (the  hilt  being  in 
form  of  a  cross);  I.  v.  147. 

Upshot,  conclusion;  V.  ii.  406. 

Up-sphino,  the  wildest  dance  at 
the  old  German  merry-mak- 
ings; I.  iv.  9. 


Vailed  lids,  lowered  eyelids;   I. 

ii.  70. 
Valanced,  adorned  with  a  beard; 

II.  ii.  458. 

Validity,  value,  worth;  III.  ii. 
204. 

Vantage;  "of  v.",  from  an  ad- 
vantageous position,  or  oppor- 
tunity (Warburton) ;  III.  iii. 
33. 

Variable,  various;  IV.  iii.  26. 

Vast,  void;  (so  Q.  1;  Q.  2,  F. 
1,  'wast';  Ff.  2,  3,  4,  'waste'); 

I.  ii.  198. 

Ventages,  holes  of  the  recorder; 

III.  ii.  386. 

Vice  of  kings,  buffoon,  clown  of 
a  king;  alluding  to  the  Vice, 
the  comic  character,  of  the  old 
morality  plays;  III.  iv.  98. 

Videlicet,  that  is  to  say,  namely; 

II.  i.  61. 

Vigor;  "sudden  v.",  rapid  power; 

I.  V.  68. 
Violet,  emblem  of  faithfulness; 

IV.  V.  187. 

Virtue,  power;  IV.  v.   157. 

Visitation,  visit;  II.  ii.  25. 

Voice,  vote,  opinion;  V.  ii.  271. 

Vouchers;  "double  v.,  his  recov- 
eries," "a  recovery  with  double 
voucher  is  the  one  usually  suf- 
fered, and  is  so  denominated 
from  troo  persons  (the  latter 
of  whom  is  always  the  com- 
mon cryer,  or  some  such  in- 
ferior person)  being  successive- 
ly vouched,  or  called  upon,  to 
warrant  the  tenant's  title" 
(Ritson);  V.  i.  119. 

Wag,  move;  III.  iv.  39. 

Wake,  hold  nightly  revel;  I.  iv. 

8. 
Wandering  stabs,  planets;  V.  i. 

288. 


218 


PRINCE  OF  DENMARK 


Glossary 


Wann'd,  turned  pale;  J[.  ii.  tiOl. 
Wantox;    effeminate     weakling; 

V.  11.  321. 

,  wantonly;  111.  iv.  183. 

Wantonness,  affectation;   III,  1. 

154. 
Warranty,  warrant;  V.  i.  259. 
Wash,  sea;  III.  ii.  171. 
Wassail,  carousal,  drinking  bout; 

I.  iv.  9. 

Watch,    state    of    sleeplessness; 

II.  ii.  150. 

Water-fly  (applied  to  Osric) ; 
"a  water-fly  skips  up  and 
down  upon  the  surface  of  the 
water  without  any  apparent 
purpose  or  reason,  and  is 
thence  the  proper  emblem  of 
a  busy  trifler"  (Johnson) ;  V. 
11.  84. 

Waves,  beckons;  (Ff.  "wafts"); 
I.  Iv.  68. 

We;  "and  we,"  used  loosely  after 
conjunction  instead  of  accusa- 
tion of  regard,  i.  e.  "as  for  us;" 

I.  iv.  54. 

Weeds,  robes;  IV.  vii.  81. 
Well-took,  well  undertaken;  II. 

II.  83. 

Wharf,  bank;  I.  v.  33. 

What,  who;  IV.  vl.  1. 

Wheel,  the  burden  or  refrain  of 
a  song,  (or,  perhaps,  the  spin- 
ning-wheel to  which  it  may  be 
sung)  ;  IV.  v.  174. 

Whether,  (monosyllabic) ;  II.  ii. 
17. 

Which,  who;  IV.  vli.  4. 

Wholesome,  reasonable,  sensible; 

III.  ii.  339. 

WiLDNESs,  madness;  III.  1.  40. 

Will;  "virtue  of  his  will,"  i.  e. 
his  virtuous  intention;  I.  iii.  16. 

Wind;  "to  recover  the  w.  of  me," 
a  hunting  term,  meaning  to  get 
to  windward  of  the  game,  so 


that  it  may  not  scent  the  toil 
or  its  pursuers;  III.  ii.  375. 

Windlasses,  winding,  indirect 
ways;  II.  i.  65. 

Winking;  "given  my  heart  a 
w.",  closed  the  eyes  of  my 
heart;  (Qq.  2-5,  "working"); 
II.  ii.  139. 

Winnowed,  (vide  "Fond"). 

Wit,  wisdom;  II.  ii.  90. 

Withal,  with;  I.  ill.  28. 

Withdraw;  "to  w.  with  you,"  "to 
speak  a  word  in  private  with 
you"  (Schmidt);  III.  ii.  373. 

Withers,  the  part  between  the 
shoulder-blades  of  a  horse;  III. 
11.  260. 

Within's,  within  this;  III.  11. 
140. 

Wittenberg,  the  University  of 
Wittenberg  (founded  1502);  I. 
11.  113. 

Wonder-wounded,  struck  with 
surprise;  V.  1.  289. 

Woodcocks,  birds  supposed  to 
be  brainless;  hence  proverbial 
use;  I.  iii.  115. 

Woo't,  contraction  of  wouldst 
thou;  V,  1.  307. 

Word,  watch-word;  I.  v.  110. 

Worlds;  "both  the  w.",  this 
world  and  the  next;  IV.  v.  136. 

Would,  wish;  I.  11.  235. 

WouNDLESs,  Invulnerable;  IV.  i. 
44. 

Wreck,  ruin;  II.  1.  113. 

Wretch,  here  used  as  a  term  of 
endearment;  II.  il.  169. 

Writ;  "law  of  w.  and  liberty," 
probably  a  reference  to  the 
plays  written  with  or  without 
decorum,  i,  e.  the  supposed 
canons  of  dramatic  art,= 
"classical"  and  "romantic" 
plays;  (according  to  some,= 
"adhering  to  the  text  or  extem- 


219 


Glossary 


TRAGEDY  OF  PIAMLET 


porizing  when  need  requires") ; 
II.  ii.  4.34.. 

Yaughan;  "get  thee  to  Y."  (so 
F.  1;  Q.  2,  "get  thee  in  and^J; 
probably  the  name  of  a  well- 
known  keeper  of  an  ale-house 
near  the  Globe,  perhaps  the 
Jew,  "one  Johan,"  alluded  to 
in  Every  Man  out  of  his  Un- 
mor;  V.  ir. ;  V.  i.  69. 

Yaw,  stagger,  move  unsteadily; 
(a  nautical  term) ;   V.  ii.   IJ2. 

Yeoman's   service,   good   service. 


such  as  the  yeoman  performed 
for  his  lord;  (Qq.  ~»  3,  4, 
"yemans")  ;  V.  ii.  36. 

Yesty,  foamy;  V.  ii.  206. 

\oRicK,  the  name  of  a  jester, 
lamented  by  Hamlet;  perhaps 
a  corruption  of  the  Scandina- 
vian name  Erick,  or  its  Eng- 
lish equivalent;  (the  passage 
possibly  contains  a  tribute  to 
the  comic  actor  Tarlton);  V. 
i.  206. 

YouRSEi.r;  "in  y.",  for  yourself, 
personally;  II.  i.  71. 


220 


STUDY  QUESTIONS 

By  Anne  Throop  Craig 

GENERAL 

1.  What  was  the  story  on  which  the  outhne  plot  of 
the  play  was  based?  Is  the  nature  of  the  actual  times  of 
the  story  set  forth  in  the  pla}-?  To  what  period  do  the 
manners  of  the  play  belong? 

2.  What  is  the  predominant  nature  of  this  tragedy? 

3.  Describe  fully  the  character  of  Hamlet.  Describe 
the  condition  of  mind  and  feeling  into  which  his  circum- 
stances have  thrown  him. 

4.  What  is  Hamlet's  estimate  of  Polonius? 

5.  How  does  he  treat  the  sycophancy  of  the  courtiers? 
What  does  this  tell  of  his  character? 

6.  To  whom  alone  does  he  show  his  true  nature  and 
mind  ? 

7.  Describe  the  character  of  Laertes.  Does  he  seem  an 
imperfectly  constructed  character,  or  is  there  something 
to  explain  or  extenuate  his  final  plot  against  Hamlet  and 
to   make  it   compatible  with   an   originally  noble  nature? 

8.  What  is  the  character  of  Claudius's  penance?  What 
impression  is  produced  of  his  inner  state  of  mind?  Does 
he  specifically  express  his  feeling?  Cite  passages  in  ex- 
planation. 

9.  What  seems  to  have  been  the  root  of  Gertnidc's  be- 
havior?    What  faults  of  nature  are  set  forth   in  her? 

10.  Describe  the  experiences  of  mind  and  emotion  that 
cause  Ophelia's  madness.  What  passages  make  the  char- 
acter of  her  love  apparent? 

11.  How   is  the   character  of   Horatio   expressed?     In 

221 


study  Questions  TRAGEDY  OF  HA^ILET 

what  passages  are  his  quahties  especially  manifest?     Cite 
Hamlet's  expressions  of  feeling  for  him. 

12.  Does  any  important  action  of  the  plot  hinge  upon 
an  element  of  Polonius's  character?  What  element  is  it? 
Is  this  use  of  personal  traits  in  the  persons  of  his  dramas 
characteristic  of  Shakespeare? 

13.  In  what  way  is  the  Fortinbras  and  Norway  situation 
important  to  the  action? 

14.  What  passages  are  characterized  by  particular  tech- 
nical excellence,  beauty,  and  simplicity,  throughout  the 
play? 

15.  What  causes  Hamlet's  delay  of  action  against  the 
king?  What  elements  of  the  situation  if  thoroughly 
known  to  him,  would  have  made  restraint  just  and  ra- 
tional? What  would  it  have  bespoken  of  him,  if  he  had 
acted  on  impulse  of  the  Ghost's  revelation?  What  does 
his  restraint  in  this  matter  indicate  regarding  his  character 
and  state  of  mental  control? 

16.  In  what  different  ways  does  Hamlet's  suffering  lead 
him  to  express  himself?  How  does  his  initial  grief  effect 
his  relations  in  other  directions?  Explain  the  psycholog- 
ical impulse  for  such  varying  manifestations  in  the  several 
cases. 

17.  What  is  the  main  difference  in  being  overwrought 
in  nerves  and  emotions  and  in  being  actually  insane,  even 
temporarily?  Compare  the  final  uncontrol  of  Laertes 
with  the  action  of  Hamlet  throughout. 

18.  In  applying  their  hypotheses  and  diagnoses  might 
pathologists  sometimes  charge  insanity  even  upon  strong 
and  sane  men  whose  tenor  of  behavior  is  characterized  by 
consistence  and  control,  however  overwrought  they  may 
be  on  occasions  from  strain  of  nerves  and  feeling?  Do 
these  overwrought  states  of  nerves  necessarily  suppose  or 
produce  unbalance  of  a  strong  intellect.  Apply  your  con- 
clusion to  Hamlet's  case. 


222 


PRINCE    OF   DENMARK  study  Questions 

ACT    I 

19.  What  is  the  striking  characteristic  of  scene  i? 

20.  What  is  the  dramatic  value  of  the  Ghost's  reserva- 
tion of  its  speech  for  Hamlet? 

21.  What  lines  bring  out  most  the  tragedy  and  pathos 
of  Hamlet's  feeling,  in  his  speech  with  the  Ghost  of  his 
father?     Wliat  do  they  show  of  his  character? 

22.  By  what  means  do  Hamlet's  speeches  to  the  king 
and  queen  convo;;'  the  impression  of  the  undercurrent  of 
his  feeling  and  his  secret  knowledge? 

23.  What  is  the  dramatic  effect  of  placing  Horatio's 
tale  of  the  Ghost's  appearance  immediately  after  Ham- 
let's soliloquy  in  scene  ii? 

24).  What  characteristics  does  Polonius  display  in  his 
talk  with  Laertes? 

25.  Is  it  natural  for  Laertes  to  warn  his  sister  against 
Hamlet's  protestations  of  love?  What  lines  of  Laertes* 
make  his  warning  compatible  with  respect  for  Hamlet? 

26.  What  is  the  dramatic  treatment  of  Hamlet's  dis- 
traught state  after  his  experience  of  grief  and  super- 
natural conference,  in  scene  v? 

27.  Explain  the  psychology  of  his  state  of  mind  and 
feeling  in  this  instance? 

28.  What  is  the  general  dramatic  effect  of  the  scenes 
in  which  the  Ghost  appears?  What  characterizes  the  pre- 
liminaries to  the  appearances? 

ACT    n 

29.  How  does  the  character  of  Polonius  further  display 
itself  in  scene  i? 

30.  What  aspect  of  character  is  exhibited  by  Rosen- 
crantz  and  Guildenstern  in  scene  ii? 

31.  How  does  Hamlet's  behavior  help  the  impression 
that  he  is  mad? 

32.  What  is  the  technical  distinction  between  the  lines 
recited  by  Hamlet  and  the  p]a3'^ers  as  quotations, — and  the 
lines  of  the  characters  in  their  proper  persons? 

233 


study  Questions  TRAGEDY  OF  HAMLET 

as.  Trace  the  dawning  in  Hamlet's  mind  of  the  sug- 
gestion for  his  use  of  the  pla^'ers. 

34.  What  is  the  feature  of  Hamlet's  final  soliloquy  in 
scene  ii? 

35.  Why  does  he  still  doubt  his  suspicion  of  Claudius? 

ACT    III 

36.  To  what  state  of  mental  distress  has  Hamlet  ar- 
rived in  scene  i.'* 

37.  How  is  it  reflected  in  his  passage  with  Ophelia.? 
Explain  the  emotional  and  intellectual  process  that  could 
lead  him  to  talk  thus  to  Ophelia. 

38.  Cite  the  beauties  of  Ophelia's  soliloquy  after  Ham- 
let leaves  her.     What  state  of  feeling  does  it  express.? 

39.  Where  does  the  impression  of  Claudius's  fear  of 
Hamlet  begin?  Why  was  it  to  his  advantage  to  try  to 
have  Hamlet   diA^erted? 

40.  What  does  Hamlet's  talk  with  the  players  in  scene 
ii  make  evident  of  the  Poet's  ideals  of  good  acting? 

41.  Wherein  is  the  pathos  of  Hamlet's  choosing  to  sit 
near  Ophelia  during  the  enactment  of  the  play  in  scene  ii? 

42.  In  what  lines  in  this  scene  is  the  bitter  irony  of 
Hamlet's  sentiment  especially  poignant? 

43.  Is  it  natural  that  the  play-scene  should  produce  the 
effect  it  does  upon  the  king?     Give  j^our  reasons. 

44.  What  is  the  mood  of  Hamlet's  talk  with  Horatio 
after  the  play? — Explain  the  mood  and  thought  of  it  as 
carried  over  into  the  passage  with  Rosencrantz  and  Guil- 
denstern. 

45.  What  characterizes  Hamlet's  talk  concerning  his 
mother? — and  to  her,  in  their  interview? 

46.  Does  the  passage  between  the  Ghost  and  Hamlet 
voice  Hamlet's  own  conflicting  feelings  about  his  mother? 
What  constitutes  the  subtlety  of  Shakespeare's  use  of 
apparitions? 

47.  Is  it  clear  whether  or  not  Gertrude  know  of  the 
murder  of  her  husband?     Is  there  an  effect  gained  by  its 


PRINCE   OF   DENMARK  study  Questions 

doubtfulness?     How     did     the     earlier     versions     of     the 
plaj'  treat  Gertrude's  relation  to  the  murder? 

ACT    IV 

48.  Why  does  the  death  of  Polonius  give  the  king 
further  alarm? 

49.  Why  was  the  King  afraid  to  harm  Hamlet  openly? 

50.  What  dramatic  application  is  made  of  the  informa- 
tion the  Captain  gives  Hamlet  in  scene  iv? 

51.  Why  does  Gertrude  not  want  to  see  Ophelia? 

52.  What  lines  through  Ophelia's  mad  scenes  are  remin- 
iscent of  her  love  and  griefs?  Describe  the  dramatic  ex- 
pression of  her  madness. 

53.  Characterize  the  spirit  of  Laertes'  lines  throughout 
his  passage  with  the  King.  His  expression  of  sentiment 
over  Opheha's  madness. 

54.  Comment  on  the  effect  of  the  king's  villainy  upon 
Laertes. 

ACT    V 

55.  What  constitutes  the  dramatic  perfection  of  scene 
i  in  the  process  of  its  development? 

56.  How  has  the  psychology  of  presentiment  been  em- 
ployed for  dramatic  purpose  in  this  act?  Cite  other  in- 
stances. 

57.  To  what  specifically  does  Hamlet  apply  his  figures 
in  lines  60-62,  scene  ii? 

58.  Does  Hamlet  feel  any  foreboding  concerning  the 
sword  play?  What  does  Horatio  urge?  What  is  the 
nature  of  Hamlet's  reasoning  in  reply? 

59.  What  in  the  dramatic  method  gives  the  superbly 
convincing  effect  of  fatality  in  the  final  resolution? 

60.  What  is  the  climax  and  end  of  the  play?  What 
constitutes  an  anti-climax? 


225, 


14  01 


i\ 


4 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  AT  LOS  ANGELES 

THE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below 


JAN     2.1338 


i\ 


JU^ 


J^W  2  9   1941 

NOV  27  1941 
DEC  i  -    ^^l 

^pp  2  8  1942 


DEC  2 1  ^^^^ 

HAY  2  8  194G 
'^Pf^  3  3  1947 


JAN  4    1949,^ 

JAN  2"  laSii 
FEB  5      1954 

JAN  2  6  ^955 

'Kb  9     1955 
APR  2  9  1955 


IffC'D  LD-URL 


'^'^  1  n950^'' 

-^■Pf?  2  6  1958 

0£C1     1956 


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i  /96I 


m  1  4  196^ 


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STS17  566  3 


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